Zen Gardens of the Heart
by OneShotRevolt
Summary: Kazuya has taken over the Mishima Zaibatsu and wields power and control with remorseless efficiency. An ideologically passionate young wildlife officer, Jun Kazama, is determined to hold the Zaibatsu responsible for the wrong they've done, but ends up warring instead for the better part that she alone still sees in Kazuya's heart.
1. One Summer in Tokyo

The office was hot. The air-conditioning was blasting out, but it couldn't rid the air of that heavy humidity and with it the knowledge that the heat was there, waiting just beyond a pane of glass. There was a slight shimmer in the air as he looked down onto the city. Skyscrapers distorted and the thin sounds of traffic trying to suffuse through the thick window added to the unreal bend of the cityscape below. He yanked opened his office door.

Immediately beyond was a large spacious room fitted with refined, polished cedarwood furniture. A desk was over to the right. At it sat his brother, looking immaculate as usual despite the heat. His silvery hair was perfectly parted, and a pale grey, almost white suit hugged his form – jacket and all. The only thing that marred the picture was a slight flicker of trepidation moving over those fine features. His brother looked like he wanted to say something, but eventually opted just to chew his bottom lip and regard him carefully, perhaps waiting for something that might explain the violence with which the door had been opened.

Kazuya moved his arm over the desk, clearing himself a space, then sat there, arms folded, eyebrows black. Chaolan hurried to rescue all the things that had been knocked out of place, grabbing at paperwork and a toppling stand of ink pens. Once he'd set these things straight, he rubbed his chin, betraying more uncertainty.

"Anything I can do for you?"

Kazuya could hear him trying to put on his most placating tone. People were using that tone a lot around him these days. Treading carefully as thought he were an unexploded bomb. Perhaps with some justification.

"What's next?"

Chaolan had handed Kazuya a carefully drawn up itinerary for the day at 8:30AM this morning, as they both knew he did every day. Kazuya kept staring at him. Chaolan smiled a little mechanically.

"You have a telephone appointment scheduled for eighteen minutes time with Mr De Rochefort. He wants to review the terms of Rochefort Enterprises contract with the Zaibatsu."

"Rochefort? That annoying sentimental guy with glasses like a 50s American popstar?"

"The very same." Kazuya shifted his weight irritably. Chaolan hurried to move more things out of his reach. "Although it's not as if you'll have to see the glasses. He's putting in a long distance call from Monaco."

"Why isn't he here in person?"

"Well, it's a long way, Kaz." Kazuya glanced up sharply at the nickname. "No one else is here," Chaolan said just a little petulantly, "you said that when no one else is-"

"We're still in the office." Kazuya watched his brother exhale a bitter sigh. He sent Chaolan a black glare that made him swallow the end of his frustration.

"As you wish." He could hear Chaolan trying to keep the bite out of his words. "Anyway, as I was saying, it's a long flight to make, when the same process could be done over the teleph-"

"Cancel the appointment." Chaolan's mouth dropped open. Kazuya continued unphased, "tell Rochefort if he wants to change the terms of his contract he can start by coming to me in person. Next?"

"K-kaz, you can't just-" Kazuya whirled round, papers flying off the desk. "Sorry! Sorry, I won't call you that," Chaolan raised his hands in submission, "sorry – force of habit. But, what I mean is," he said carefully, keeping his eyes trained on his brother, "we can't just cancel the appointment and expect the poor man to f-"

"_We_ aren't doing anything. _I _just cancelled it. Next."

"If you don't want to do the appointment, I could get someone else to do it who-"

"Chaolan, what did I just say to you?" There was an edge in Kazuya's voice, testy and measured, as if waiting for the opportunity to come down like a guillotine.

"Cancelled. Got it." Chaolan picked up the phone on his desk and dialled. He twirled the phone wire anxiously in his finger as he waited for the call to pick up. Kazuya watched him intently.

When the call was done, Chaolan looked uncomfortable and grim.

"He was a little upset," he murmured.

Kazuya stretched and cricked his neck.

"Good. First bit of good news I've heard all day. You still haven't answered me."

"I left the day's schedule on your-" Chaolan was again cut off by that intense glare and instead hurried to answer. "I originally penned the Rochefort call in for about forty-five minutes. There's a stack of weapon contracts that need your signatures that I left on your desk, and there's the head of Mishima Industries R&D who was due to come by at 3PM. I could move him up now that you've cleared your 2:15."

"Move the R&D meeting up. You can do the signatures."

"It needs _your_ signature. _I'm_ not the head of the Mishima Zaibatsu." There was resentment there, but these days it mostly served to amuse Kazuya when he heard it.

"You have a beautiful hand for forgeries."

"It will literally take you twenty minutes to go through the whole stack, and we do _not_ need to add forgery to the list of things this company could be pulled up for. Our legal department is already flooded. And besides, I'm leaving shortly." Chaolan checked his watch.

"Somewhere you have to be?"

"I've got a PR thing at the powerplant."

"The powerplant? Nice place for it." Kazuya's voice was heavy with derision.

"That's the idea. I'm planning on boring them stiff with inane, perfectly legal, large-scale engineering. I'm showing round an interpol agent and some local police." Kazuya's eyebrows raised at that. Chaolan put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his comfortable office chair, "yeah it's as bad as it sounds. I mentioned last week that there's a new open case against us. This one's possibly one of the most clutching yet, but it's been taken up by the most belligerent, stubborn officers I've ever met. I think they're bottom of the barrel cops who no one wants around. They've put them on us to set them up to fail. They're hoping we'll do the dirty work of getting them fired or sent back to desk jobs."

"Showing cops round a nuclear power station. Sounds incredibly tedious."

"Which is why I'm doing it, and not you, Kaz. I do all the things you don't like doing." Chaolan stacked the paper work he'd had to move and set it to one side. "Also because the further you are from anything like public relations, the less likely we are to incriminate ourselves. Especially where law enforcement is involved."

Kazuya folded his arms, letting the familiarity slide this time,

"I can be not incriminating."

"Really."

"Yes, _really._"

"Alright," Chaolan put his elbows on his desk, folded his hands together and settled his chin on them, he set his brother with sullen brown eyes. "Let's say a journalist asks you who the Zaibatsu is supplying weapons to. What do you say?"

"The good guys," Kazuya answered immediately, "I say we supply to the good guys only."

"Incorrect. You say the Zaibatsu invests in education and the future. We want there to be a light in every home and warmth for every child."

"There a two many fucking lights in Tokyo. And more than enough _warmth._" Kazuya tugged at his shirt collar, reminded of the prickly heat he'd been trying to escape in the first place.

"There are many reasons why it's a bullshit answer, Kaz. But that doesn't stop it being the correct one. PR is about saying shit people don't want to hear, then making them think that answers their question." Chaolan stood and began selecting papers and sliding them into a smart, shiny, soft leather briefcase. The internal intercom on his desk buzzed. He held down a button on it. "Lee Chaolan."

"Mr Lee, an Agent Lei and Officer Kazama to see you."

"Send them up."

"Very well, sir."

Kazuya tilted his head,

"What are they investigating?"

"Bunch of things tenuously related to animal mistreatment." Kazuya pulled a face of bemusement. "Yeah. Told you it was clutching. That manslaughter we had a couple of months back-"

"Which one?"

"Not yours. Down at the animal testing wing of the Tokyo genetics lab (which by the way does not exist as far as they're concerned). It was whilst working in the large predator section. We had a meeting about it?"

"Don't remember it."

"Well you sent half a flower shop to the relatives. And I penned an obituary in your name. But anyway, that's on the cards, along with…" Choalan picked up a wad of paper stapled in the corner he ran his finger down the page. "Breach of work place safety laws, suspicion of animal testing on illegal species, suspicion of international smuggling."

"Guilty on all accounts."

"Yeah save it for the court case we'll hopefully never have to have because you've got an amazingly efficient brother."

"Modest much?"

"Not like I ever get a word of praise from you."

"Poor Chaolan hasn't had his ego stroked in a while."

"Fuck off, Kaz."

Kazuya's eyes went sharp-

* * *

-Chaolan froze.

The office went silent. It was broken only by the soft rattle of air pouring out the air conditioning unit. Chaolan stopped what he was doing and looked slowly to his brother. The banter had become so natural that his words had slipped out like nothing had changed – like they were still teenagers bickering under the roof of Heihachi. He knew his mistake though. He could see Kazuya looking at him in that oddly intense way, like he was a few seconds from breaking something, or someone. There was a dark pressure to his gaze – a heavy palpable wall of heat, simmering with violence. Chaolan glanced away, unable to meet the force of that stare, his insides churning uncomfortably. Dread was rising in his chest. He slowly returned to packing his briefcase. Kazuya kept staring at him. A slight tremble entered Chaolan's fingers and he tried to focus on making sure it wasn't visible. Kazuya stood abruptly. Chaolan flinched. He looked up again, this time with eyes full of apprehension and apologies. Kazuya's gaze flicked over him.

"Watch your tone," Kazuya said softly.

Chaolan nodded vigorously, and suddenly found the air was easier to breathe again. He drew in a shaky breath. Kazuya had been doing better recently at keeping violence in the office building to a minimum, but Chaolan didn't want to be the one to push that counter back over to 'zero-days-since-a-work-place-incident'.

He was infinitely glad for the knock that sounded on door.

"Come in!" he said with painted brightness, a quaver still in his voice.

Agent Lei was a collected, confident man in an easy, police issue bomber jacket, heavy cargo pants and steel capped boots. His hair was slicked back, and dog-tags hung about his neck. He drew the eye by merit of his presence, filling the room with determination and enthusiasm. Beside him was a slight young woman, a little shorter than her partner in a practical white gilet vest and shorts. A simple headband kept dark hair out of her face. Chaolan surveyed them both, eyeing them them up first by his personal aesthetic standards, and when he was sure neither were particularly to his taste, giving them a second look over to judge their character. This Agent Lei looked overconfident and easy to misdirect, while Officer Kazama looked young, impressionable and too timid to be much of a problem. His finely honed sixth sense for knowing Kazuya's moods kicked in though, and he glanced over at his brother. Kazuya was staring at the young woman. Chaolan gave an internal sigh. Really, his brother had no sense of subtlety.

"Agent Lei, Officer Kazama. So glad you could join me. May I introduce you to Mr Mishima?"

"Mishima Kazuya himself. Didn't think we'd get the honour," Lei Wulong said a little dryly. "You keep yourself very well insulated these days, Mr Mishima. Is that perhaps because you've got a lot to hide?"

Kazuya usually had a sharp comeback, bordering on a threat for such instances. Chaolan was surprised to see his brother completely ignore the agent however, eyes remaining on the young police officer behind him. Chaolan saw Wulong's face tick to irritated at being ignored. He jumped in to smooth over the moment.

"Mr Mishima is a very busy man."

"Will you be joining us today, Mr Mishima?" Officer Kazama asked. She spoke more boldly than Chaolan had expected, causing him to reassess his initial assumptions.

"Of course," Kazuya replied. That went like a lightening bolt through Chaolan and for a moment he was rooted to the spot.

"Good. We have a lot of questions we were hoping we could ask you personally."

"K-… Mr Mishima," Chaolan corrected himself at the last second, "could I possibly speak to you in private for a moment?"

Kazuya's eyes flicked to him, then he jerked his head towards his office door. Chaolan bowed to his guests, excusing himself. He stepped behind Kazuya into the office and shut the door behind them.

"Kaz, what the fuck? You've got a ton of appointments set for today."

"And now I have one more. Frees you up. Didn't you say you didn't have enough time earlier? Now you can sign those papers and speak to those morons down in research and development."

Chaolan covered his face with a hand.

"This isn't-… Please, this is a really delicate PR affair. You hate this stuff anyway. There's so much paperwork attached to this meeting – I've had to read up on these agents, their jurisdiction, precisely what they have on us, exactly what we have to agree to and what we can get away with not saying. And if we put one foot wrong, this could be a really serious thorn in our side."

Kazuya folded his arms. His eyes hardened.

"How many times are you going to contradict me in one fucking day, Chaolan?"

Chaolan immediately spread his hands in placation. His eyes became earnest and anxious.

"Trust me when I say I wouldn't do this unless it was really important. There is no world in which I want to get on your bad side, but just because a pretty face shows up, doesn't-" Kazuya took a step towards him. Chaolan took one back. "K… Kazuya," he cautioned, "let's… wait a moment." Chaolan backed up further as Kazuya continued to advance. His back hit a wall. "There's police next door," Chaolan whispered, "let's not do anything that would-" His chin was caught between a finger and thumb as Kazuya forced him to meet his eye.

Chaolan could feel his heartbeat in his mouth. The air had gone dry around him and a heavy sense of doom pressed itself into the recesses of his mind, compressing him into a small frightened thing. He dimly wondered when it was that he'd started feeling this soul-crushing dread around his brother. The fingers moved from his chin to circle his throat. The colour drained from his face, and suddenly powerplants by comparison really didn't seem that important.

"Okay," Chaolan said around the hand tightening on his neck, "v-very much getting that you don't want to change your mind on this." He tried not to let his fear show. Kazuya was too close to be stoppable and that hand was already too strong on his throat. One sudden movement if Kazuya so desired and- "I-I'll phone down and alert your private security. A-and I'll get you the documents you might need. P-perhaps you can look over them on the j-… journey over." He choked on his own words as Kazuya squeezed his windpipe. Chaolan held his brother's gaze, trying not to show any weakness as his lungs burned for air. Kazuya's eyes bored into him. They were dead and dark and empty of the familiar things Chaolan remembered belonging to his brother. The grip tightened further, and immediately the facade of calm fled Chaolan's face, replaced with naked fear. This might be it. This might be the day he finally went too far and didn't make it home.

Kazuya released him.

Air rushed back into his lungs. Chaolan stayed rigid against the wall, pulling in deep breaths, still frightened to move.

"Get those papers together in the next five minutes."

Chaolan nodded quickly, his neck burning as he did so. Only when Kazuya finally turned away from him did his shoulders slump and his posture lapse. He fiddled with the collar of his shirt, trying to tug it higher to hide the marks of Kazuya's displeasure.

* * *

When Chaolan re-entered the room, Kazama Jun immediately noticed a difference. He carried himself just as proudly, but there was something changed about him. Waves of fear and distress rolled off him. His smiles were a little too quick and a touch furtive. There was a haunted unhappiness behind his eyes. His hands moved swiftly through the papers on his desk as he searched for what he wanted. His eyes skated over the spread of files and his fingers sifted through them without success. Jun could feel his agitation growing, hovering in the air about him like a fine mist. When the CEO office door opened, Chaolan jumped and a wad of paper slid through his hands to scatter about the floor. Jun immediately stepped forward to help him and began collecting up the papers. His distress was so concentrated now that she could feel it tugging her own emotions down.

"It's fine," Chaolan muttered at her, not managing to summon up a facade of charm to cover the mess.

Jun saw Kazuya fold his arms and watch them. The weight of his gaze was like nothing she'd ever encountered before. She'd long learned to school the coming and going waves of feeling she sensed in those about her, but Mishima Kazuya was a black hole, sucking warmth out of everything nearby and leaving only dread in his wake. She looked up at him and found him staring at her again like he had when she first entered. She wondered if he somehow knew her gift. He made her feel embarrassed, as if she had stumbled upon some dark secret of his that was invisible to the eyes of others. Darkness swirled about him in a hurricane of hate and anger. She wondered how any one person could keep such a calm empty expression with that much turbulent rage coursing through them. No wonder his poor secretary was so distraught.

Chaolan thanked her and replaced the fallen paperwork on his desk, then had to continue his search. After another few fruitless, silent minutes, where the tension seemed to mount, he made a small noise of realisation. He pulled open his leather briefcase and pulled out a series of files.

"Apologies for making you wait," Jun heard him murmur as his handed Kazuya the files. Kazuya took them without looking, then gestured to the doorway.

"Shall we?" He ignored Chaolan as he led Jun and Lei Wulong out of the room.

Jun was beginning to wish she'd taken up the offer to borrow a squad car. One of the regular precinct officers had offered her one when they heard she'd been handed the Mishima case. After feeling the waves of pity and doubt coming off him, she'd politely refused. It never looked good turning up to a case in a car when representing any aspect of environmental protection enforcement. Wulong had flown in over a week ago, and as an outsider working with a force that had more international clout, almost everyone else in the precinct had given him the cold shoulder, and certainly not offered him any resources. They'd taken public transport to the Mishima Zaibatsu building, so were now left with no option but to ride awkwardly alongside Mishima Kazuya in a private limousine.

She watched Mishima Kazuya as he read through the files he'd brought with him. His brow kept twitching slightly, as if perhaps he was distracted by something. Wulong nudged her and pointed out the window.

"Hey look at that!" He craned his neck to see out of the darkened windows as Tokyo Tower entered the skyline. Jun gave him a brief smile. The agent's acute interest and observation knew no bounds. She was all too happy to collaborate on this case with him, but hadn't anticipated that extended to being a tour guide. Her eyes kept sliding back to Mishima Kazuya. She'd been so overwhelmed by his draining presence earlier, that she'd not really had a chance to see the man at the eye of the hurricane. His face was sharp, angular, and dominated by a large scar that crossed over both cheekbones. A brilliant purple shirt was rolled up to his elbows for the summer weather, with a smart, dark, trim waistcoat and matching suit trousers. Shining, elegant shoes tapped the air in annoyance. When her eyes returned to his face, she realised he was watching her. She blinked and blushed and looked away. Kazama Jun never blushed. She put the awkward fluttering feeling in her chest down to the jarring aura the man was filling the car with.

"So, you're not a real police officer." Kazuya broke the quiet. The purr of the limousine was almost silent, and the bulletproof glass kept out almost all the sounds of the outside world.

Wulong looked irritated at his tone, but before he could try and come to her defence, Jun spoke.

"That's correct. I work for an environmental protection group who have a contract with the Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries. The law enforcement in the ministry has been contracted out to my organisation. So whilst I'm an officer of the law, I'm not with the police force."

"So you can't arrest me," Kazuya said mildly.

"She can't, but I can." Wulong gave him a thin smile.

"Can you?" Kazuya's voice was soft and just a little laced with threat. He set Wulong with an intense, bleak stare.

Wulong held his gaze for a moment, then quickly looked away. Jun had been with him for most of the week, and hadn't yet seen a situation or person that could stir self-doubt in Lei Wulong. Apparently Mishima Kazuya was an exception in that regard too.

The limousine pulled up and the doors clicked open. Jun hastily exited the car. It felt alien to be sitting in such an obvious display of wealth. That and the enclosed space with Mishima Kazuya was beginning to give her a thundering headache. Being close to him was like a continual hammer beating inside her skull. She blinked in the sudden sunlight and immediate heat after the air-conditioned car. A vast structure stood before them, with enormous concrete cooling towers that obscured her view. White clouds billowed up into the sky, piling stacks of steam into the air and stamping out the azure blue beyond. Her heart sunk just looking at it.

"Impressive!" Wulong said, clearly not seeing the same thing as her. He snapped a pair of sunglasses onto his face. A second black car pulled up beside them and three bodyguards got out, all non-descript in black suits save a tall, imposing man in their midst – sharply dressed, with dark brown skin, fierce eyes, a goatee beard, and a clipped mohawk. Jun's eyes went to the firearm holstered at his belt.

"Got a licence for that, buddy?" Wulong said brightly, he was peering intently at the man with one of his incisive, dismantling stares. The man spared him an empty cold glance then moved to Kazuya's side, whispering in an undertone to him. "Your countrymen really know how to make a guy feel welcome," Wulong said, raising his eyebrows at Jun.

"Let's keep our investigation focussed on finding facts about the case. The last thing we need is to give them reason to have us escorted from the grounds before we've got through the door."

"Or the cast iron security gate," Wulong added.

Jun followed his eyes with dismay. An ominous gate topped with barbed wire was manned by a checkpoint. Beyond that was a further electric perimeter fence that stood between them and the entrance to the nuclear powerplant.

Kazuya waved his security chief away and then indicated for the checkpoint guard to approach. The stumbling step of the guard was a testament to how rare such visits from the Zaibatsu CEO were. The man bowed repeatedly as he approached Kazuya and offered him two guest access cards, Kazuya jerked his head towards Jun and Wulong. The checkpoint guard hurried up to them and gave them each a card. _GUEST _was printed on the top and the Zaibatsu logo occupied the right corner. The rest of the card was taken up by a colourless strip with coloured bars set above it.

"What's this?" Jun asked.

"Just a precaution. Employee safety is a top priority at the Mishima Zaibatsu," the guard parroted, then fled back to the safety of his checkpoint hut.

"RAD sensor," Wulong whispered and winked at her, "changes colour with exposure to radiation."

"We're going to be exposed to radiation?!" she exclaimed. Kazuya glanced over at her. She pulled her shoulders straighter and quickly lowered her voice. "Have you been in a nuclear powerplant before?" she asked at Wulong.

"They're very safe," Wulong assured her.

"Up until they're not," she snapped. Kazama Jun never snapped. She blinked at her own temper. Being around this Mishima was throwing her control haywire. Wulong was giving her a slightly bemused look – the same look most of the local precinct officers gave her when she announced she needed to use the place as a base since her own organisation only owned one office room an hour's train from Osaka and a birdwatching hide on a mountain in Wakayama.

She turned away from Wulong and strode toward Kazuya. The tall chief of security made to intercept her, but Kazuya stilled him with a hand, allowing her to approach.

"Why do I need this?" She held up the card, a little closer to his face than was polite. She had no idea what had gotten into her manners today. Everything about her felt tested and fiery.

"A precaution in the very unlikely event of an undetected leak."

"Is your factory safe?!" Her eyes flashed at him.

The ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips,

"My _powerplant _is very safe. If it makes you feel safer, I can take that card off your hands." He reached for it. She snatched it away and held it to her chest. She looked down at the card uncertainly, then looked up at the imposing structure behind him, apprehension on her face.

"There is nothing to fear, Officer Kazama." His voice was quiet and oddly devoid of mockery this time. She looked up at him again. Some of the burning intensity had gone out of his eyes. She felt warmth rise in her cheeks. She nodded in response. He gestured to the limousine, "let's get out of this heat."

"Do we really need to drive?" she blurted, "the powerplant is just there." The bodyguards around her stiffened, telling a different tale about how outbursts might usually be handled by the Mishima CEO.

Kazuya gave a slight, amused smile. He clicked his fingers, making at least one grown man jump.

"Open the gates." He turned back to her, "a wildlife officer through and through. We shall walk if that is what you prefer, Officer Kazama."

Even the powerplant was air conditioned, Jun realised. She lost herself in an odd maze of thoughts, wondering about electricity generated to keep a building cool so machines inside could generate electricity. The tour was all conducted on high walkways above large nondescript machinery, with Zaibatsu armed bodyguards tailing their every step. Between Kazuya's omnipresent tugging aura and the waves of fear and apprehension that appeared each time a new worker saw their boss, Jun was feeling weary and distracted. Wulong had a notepad and pen in hand and seemed to be writing every now and then, but Jun couldn't think for the life of her what about. Nothing in her work experience thus far had involved anything like comprehending industrial processes or the engineering behind them. She felt her temper fraying slightly. She pushed passed Wulong and up to Kazuya, only just having time to register the surprise on Wulong's face as she again approached Mishima Kazuya fearlessly.

"Excuse me?" she interrupted. He'd been mid-sentence, apparently explaining something about nuclear reactors. He gave her a thin, slightly impatient smile. "When are we going to see the animal testing labs?"

Kazuya's thick eyebrows shot skyward.

"Ah, sorry," Wulong butted in, "I think it's the heat getting to her."

"The heat is not _getting_ to me, Lei."

Wulong tugged her to one side, she snapped her arm away from him, but stayed to hear what he had to say.

"Even if the Zaibatsu does have animal testing labs, they're not going to be at a powerplant, Kazama. Just cool it, okay? You're acting kind of weird today."

Jun's face flashed anger and hurt.

"But I thought-… On the phone Mr Lee said-"

"He said he'd show us what he could. Which is already more than a lot of people who've tried to work this case get. Do you know how hard it is for people to get interviews with anyone in the Mishima Zaibatsu? And we're talking to Mishima fucking Kazuya. Come on, Kazama. We're here to dig around on the people; the corporation's not going to just let us into its most private labs. We need to get these people talking and spilling secrets, and I can't do that if you're flying off the handle-"

"I am not _flying _off the handle!" Jun knew he was right. She wasn't acting herself. This was a long case they were going to have to build, and as much as she wanted to find the truth behind the Zaibatsu's involvement in smuggling and testing on endangered species today, she'd always known it would be a long shot.

"Let's not do this in front of the potential perps, ok? We need to look like a united front. And like professionals."

Her face fell at that. She felt even more foolish. She sensed a presence looming behind her.

"Everything alright here?" Kazuya said in that quiet way of his that cut through everyone's thoughts like a knife. His eyes were firmly set on Wulong.

"Yes, all good." Wulong gave a stiff smile.

"No trouble, Officer Kazama?"

She turned to look at him, still feeling like she'd made a mess of today. She nodded but it was devoid of passion.

"Wrong memo at work. I was hoping f-…" she wasn't sure why she kept telling this hateful man her concerns. He was the one trying to cover up all the crime. Even if it somehow turned out the Mishima Zaibatsu was as spotlessly clean as the corporation wanted to make out, she'd already seen enough horror stories in the papers over the last decade to know there was blood on their hands.

"Yes?" he pressed.

She didn't meet his eyes.

"I just have questions that I don't think can be answered today."

"Then fix up a time with my secretary." He turned back around, "shall we finished this tour?"

Jun stared after him.

Half an hour later, they were sitting in the foreman's office with a standing fan blowing cool air on their faces. Kazuya had taken over the room and turned out the powerplant head for the purpose. Iced green tea was being served next to a light side of sushi. The tea was a welcome relief after the heat of the day, but Jun was frowning at the sushi, faintly wondering if the fish in it were from the seldom-heard-of Mishima labs, where they'd undergone unnatural tests. In her tired mind's eye they were radioactive and had sprouted legs. She glanced down the guest card hanging round her neck. The radiation sensor was was absent of any indicators. She felt foolish all over again for worrying over it. She gave a silent sigh and glanced at her partner. Wulong was asking all the questions.

"And, hypothetically speaking, how would you deal with a reactor leak, Mr Mishima?"

"Are law enforcement dealing in pre-crime these days, Mr Lei? Is there not enough real crime to go around? I would have thought Hong Kong would keep you busy."

Wulong's face heated up but he kept his temper in check.

"It's _Agent_ Lei. Humour me, if you would, Mr Mishima. I'm interested in knowing what kind of processes your company has in place."

_Cover up processes_, Jun thought. That was what Wulong was really reaching for here, and she became attentive, watching Kazuya's expressions.

"If there were a leak here?"

"That's right."

Kazuya's mohawked head of security shifted at his sentinel place at the doorway. He folded his arms and tapped his fingers on his biceps.

"The matter would be dealt with by the professionals we hire to ensure just such a thing does not become a hazard to the public."

"So you'd deal with the matter internally?"

The head of security shifted again. Kazuya spared him an irritated glance.

"So long as it was prudent to do so. I really don't see what this has to do with anything, Mr Lei. If you have no more questions concerning the powerplant-"

"I do, actually, have one more question, if it's no trouble." Wulong ploughed on before Kazuya could reply. "This is one of the largest powerplants on Honshu, but only about eight percent of the power produced here is sold for public consumption. Can you tell us what the other ninety-two percent of the power is used for? I'm no expert, but I'm guessing that's enough to power a city, possibly several. What exactly is the Mishima Zaibatsu doing with all that energy?"

Kazuya set him with black eyes.

Jun felt a whirlpool of hatred and anger eddy and turn about him. She touched a finger to her temple as her head began to throb.

"I can hardly have figures like that to hand, Mr Lei," Kazuya said after a long moment. "My corporation has billions of yen invested across the globe. The statistics in one powerplant are hardly significant."

"I'm not asking about your investments across the globe, Mr Mishima. I'm just asking about your investments in Tokyo and the nearby regions. The regions supplied by this powerplant."

Kazuya's eyes momentarily met his chief of security's.

"Enough questions. Mr Mishima is a busy man. His attention is required elsewhere." The chief of security spoke his Japanese with an American twang.

"Too bad." Wulong gave a shark-like grin, "things were just getting interesting."

"Further questions can be addressed to my office," Kazuya stood. "Feel free to forget the number," he said as he passed Wulong, lip curling with barely concealed hate. He glanced once more at Jun then left the office, leaving Wulong and Jin to be escorted out by security.


	2. The Cold-Blooded Heir

"There was definitely something he didn't want to tell us!"

"That's hardly surprising," Jun said. She crossed her legs under her and poured tea into two small cups. She and Wulong were in the storecupboard they'd been given by the local precinct as an office. Between them they'd managed to dump most of the things that had been in here previously. Jun had set a thin rug on the concrete floor and was making do with a cardboard box as a table. There was small window that only cracked open two inches and mostly let in the city smog, and a fan she'd bought on the first day she arrived, plugged into an extension cable that snaked out the door. People kept pulling the plug out every time someone wanted to used the photocopier next door.

Jun closed her eyes and sipped at her tea, enjoying the cooling breeze of the fan on her face.

"You've been strangely defensive of this Mishima ever since the powerplant."

Jun's eyes snapped open,

"I have _not. _I'm just saying you questioning him about what that energy's used for isn't necessarily the big break you think it is."

Wulong folded his arms and tapped the floor with his foot.

"Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Kazama?" She rolled her eyes and set down her tea. The fan died next to her and the sound of the photocopier starting up in the next room blended with the honking of traffic out the window.

"Well, it was clear he wasn't prepared for our meeting. Mr Mishima stepped in at the last moment to give us that tour, so him not being able to answer all your questions could just be his underpreparation."

"_Exactly!_" Wulong jumped in. He sat down on the floor and pulled a cup of tea toward him. "He wasn't _prepared_ by his public relations office: he was winging it! He didn't have time to come up with a lame corporate cover-up answer. Which is precisely why I want us to press this angle. Mishima Kazuya is the weakness in his own corporation. Did you see the way his own people moved about him? Most of his staff looked like they thought he might lash out at any moment. I'll bet he's slipped up before and the company's scurried to cover up his anger. We don't need to prove anything about what the Zaibatsu's doing, we just need to stay close enough to watch and wait for Mishima's mistake, then pounce on him when he does." A frown flickered over Jun's features. "There it is again!" Wulong exclaimed.

"What?"

"That thing where you looked concerned for this criminal corporate enterprise!"

"I'm not concerned about the corporation," Jun said quickly. The room was starting to swelter without the fan. She could feel the air growing heavy and damp around her. "But I came here to help expose mistreatment of animals, not to wait for one man to slip up when he's having a bad day at work."

Wulong threw back his head and laughed. Jun frowned at him.

"Kazama, only you could make someone like Mishima Kazuya sound like a poor misunderstood intern. You know what he's probably doing now whilst we sit in this cupboard with no AC trying to pull apart his corporate lies? Probably drinking champagne out of poached ivory goblets and being fanned by lackeys with a hand-made… illegally imported peacock tail-feathers."

"I don't appreciate you making light of these issues, Lei."

"_I'm _not the one making light of them! You just need to wake up and realise not everyone's a good person, Kazama. Some people are just plain evil. Mishima is a comic-book-style baddie, and it's going to take every ounce of our resolve to fight through the money and power and influence and violence this guy is capable of throwing at us. And trust me, as soon as it looks like we're sniffing at something threatening, all the tours and ice tea and sushi are going to stop, and it'll be smearing in public newspapers, hired guns, and improv car bombs. I've seen this shit before, trust me. It's always the same with these high ends criminals."

Jun frowned at Wulong,

"The Mishima Zaibatsu stand accused of a lot, but they're still a respected company, not some Triad gangsters."

"Hah!" Wulong downed the rest of his tea, "the reason I'm on this case is because the Mishima Zaibatsu have both Triad and Yakuza ties. That chief of security yesterday? Big guy with the mohawk and gun? That's Bruce Irvin, wanted for the homicide of a police detective. Dirty work and common criminals flock to the haven of the Mishima empire. And if you think the Triad and Yakuza have never had anything to do with legitimate business, Kazama, then I don't know what to tell you, except that it shows you've been living in a birdhide for most of your life."

Jun glared at him. She poured more tea, then pushed sweat soaked hair out of her eyes. She stood and opened the door onto the busy precinct. Uniformed officers moved in and out of glass windowed offices all variously shuttered with half pulled blinds. Doors stood open and the whir of fans and flutter of paper merged with the banter of officers on duty. A coffee machine gurgled somewhere and a siren blared loud out a window. Jun reached down and plugged her fan back in. The precinct made her feel caged and claustrophobic. It was always filled with waves of stray emotion. The young man standing with a paper cup trying to tilt water out of the dispenser had something pressing on his mind that was nudging anxiety into the air. The woman tapping her foot in a queue behind him gave off annoyance and frustration. The sergeant laughing easily as he walked backwards out of an office was tipping the air with bitterness and jealousy. The secretary with walkman headphones on was at peace in a still pool of escapist bliss. Jun turned quickly and headed back into her cupboard.

Wulong sighed and twitched the collar of his shirt as the cool air started up again.

"Anyway, how about you, Kazama? You've got a bit of a reputation for picking stuff up off people, what did you make of Mishima?"

"Nothing," she said immediately, though she couldn't say why. Wulong raised his eyebrows. "Nothing out of the ordinary I mean," she corrected. "All the usual: he came over as proud, ambitious, only concerned with himself and his profits, like all businessmen." There were other things too. Like the fact he dragged peace from a room and mutated it into hate and fear. Like the fact being around him made her mind feel like it was under constant attack. Like the fact that when he looked at her it felt like he saw her, in a way that no one else did. Like the fact that her stomach was twisting even now at the memory of his intense dark eyes and the way it made her heart beat a little faster. She shook her head.

Fortunately Wulong hadn't noticed her withdrawn response.

"Well, sadly, I have a feeling Mishima won't be making the mistake of meeting with us in person again. Despite him being our best angle into this case, someone's going to be brushing away his footprints before we even pick up the trail. Probably that secretary. Maybe we can look into what we have on him. You know who that was, right?"

"Hmm?" Jun glanced up. She'd been looking into the yellowish green dregs of her teacup, thinking about the quieter, gentler voice that Kazuya had used when she'd been upset at the powerplant.

"The secretary. That's the other Mishima. The adopted one. Lee Chaolan."

Jun shook her head,

"The adopted…?"

"Keep up, Kazama. The secretary is Mishima Kazuya's brother. They grew up together."

That ensnared all of Jun's attention.

"What? That can't be right, he-"

"Treated him like shit? Yeah, not sure how this can be a surprise to you, to be honest." Jun's face fell. "Sorry to shower on your parade." Wulong did at least manage to sound sincere as he said that. "Some people are just all trouble. Mishima Kazuya doesn't even have a heart for his own brother." He stood and stretched, wincing as he got off the hard floor. "I'm going to dig up what we can. Even if we can't get Mishima again, perhaps we can get Lee Chaolan talking to us. Doesn't look like there's a whole lot of love lost between these brothers."

"I can get an appointment with Mr Mishima," Jun said suddenly, when Wulong was almost out the door. He put his head back in and looked quizzical. "Mr Mishima told me I could speak with him. He said to make an appointment."

Wulong raised an eyebrow,

"Worth a shot. I wouldn't pin your hopes on it, but if you think you can get him to talk a second time, be my guest."

The door swung to behind Wulong, catching on the fan lead. Jun rested her hand on her chin in contemplation. She was good at reading other's emotions, but was having trouble sorting through the odd assortment of things inside herself. She shifted her shoulders, pulling at her sticky shirt. Perhaps Mishima Kazuya would have forgotten his offer to answer more of her questions. Perhaps she'd make a fool of herself again even pursuing this line of thought. The fan next to her died again and the hum of the photocopier sputtering to life came loud through the thin walls. She sighed. What did she have to lose anyway.

* * *

"Tell me exactly what you said."

"I already told you!" Kazuya poured himself another cocktail refill from a glass jug rattling with crushed ice. Chaolan held up his empty cocktail glass. Kazuya filled it for him then set the jug back under the parasol. He sipped the cool drink and looked out over the Tokyo cityscape. Up this high, a soft wind touched his cheeks, pleasant relief from the baking summer temperature. He rejoined his brother in the rooftop jacuzzi, cool bubbling waters contrasting sharply with the hot air. Kazuya swilled his drink and put his feet up on the far seat. "I told them I couldn't be expected to know an insignificant figure like that."

"Kaz, it's hardly an insignificant figure. We've got five fucking labs running off that plant, not to mention the munitions factory in Yokohama, _and_ the underground facilities below the Zaibatsu tower."

"_I _know it's not an insignificant figure, but I wasn't about to say as much to them, was I."

"This is exactly why I wanted to be the one showing them around."

"Well, you could have come too, I wouldn't have stopped you."

"Excuse me if I wasn't in a mood to push you yesterday, you _had _just throttled me in your office."

Kazuya regarded him with amusement,

"You're being dramatic." He sipped at his drink. The riot of exotic fruit blending with the harder liquor beneath was refreshing and relaxing. He closed his eyes.

"_I'm _being dramatic? Have you _met_ yourself when you're angry? You're fucking intolerable!"

Kazuya cracked an eye open,

"You were annoying me. I don't appreciate you questioning my every decision." There was hurt and real pain in his brother's face. Kazuya shut his eyes again. He could deal with that some other time. He and Chaolan were both used to dealing with their own discomforts anyway. One more argument was hardly anything new.

"What was all that about yesterday anyway? Not like you to pursue a piece of ass on company time."

Kazuya's eyes opened again. This time he wore a smouldering look.

"Unlike you," Kazuya said coldly, "not everything need to be a _piece of ass_ to be judged worthy of my time."

"So I'm wrong? You don't have the hots for that police lady?"

Kazuya shot him a look of hatred. It would have been concerning were not the jacuzzi doing wonders to cool off the atmosphere between them. Kazuya settled more comfortably down into the water and sipped at his cocktail again.

"I don't _have the hots_, Chaolan." He gestured vaguely, "she just intrigues me."

"Sexually?" Kazuya choked on his cocktail. Chaolan gave him a nasty smile. "You're not so different from the rest of us, Kaz."

"I'm not talking about this with you," Kazuya snapped, but he could already feel the blush on his face, something Chaolan would be all too quick to pick up on. Chaolan cackled to himself. Kazuya death glared at him.

The peace of the rooftop was broken by an electronic ringing.

"Did you have to bring that thing with you?" Kazuya said sullenly from around the jacuzzi bubbles.

"I'm always on the clock for you, sweet brother." Chaolan stretched and reached for a blocky mobile phone. He pulled up the aerial and took the call. "Lee Chaolan speaking." His eyes widened slightly and went to Kazuya's. Kazuya sunk further in the water, not liking the judgement in his brother's stare. "Did he now?" Chaolan said in that insufferable reprimanding tone of his. "Well, I'll have to check that with him, Miss Kazama." Kazuya came up from the water so quickly that he splashed water all over his brother. Chaolan gave him an unimpressed look. "One moment, Miss Kazama, I'll just step through into his office and clear this with him. No, that's no trouble at all, I believe he's reached a break in his workload, so it's not interrupting anything. One moment, please." Chaolan put his hand over the speaker, "Such a polite young lady, worried for my well-being after you were such a dick to me yesterday."

Kazuya scowled at him. "What does she want?"

"Apparently you promised her you would meet with her?"

Kazuya frowned. He remembered saying something like that. Her face had been peaked with dismay and disappointment, and it had seemed overwhelmingly important in that moment to say something to lessen some of the unhappiness on her face.

"Mm," he said inarticulately.

"Are you fucking serious, Kaz? You agreed to meet with this police officer again? When exactly were you going to tell me this?"

"Shut the fuck up and give her an appointment."

"Kaz, you can't just run your mouth about the Zaibatsu to the cops because you're incapable of asking a girl on a date."

Kazuya stood. A cascade of water was displaced and rocked up and over the edge of the pool. His scarred, naked body looming over him was enough to make Chaolan rethink that observation.

"Alright, I'll book her in for Monday, but can you please let me brief you on company PR protocol beforehand this time?" Chaolan put the phone back to his ear. He was fairly certain the fact that Kazama Jun could hear would prevent Kazuya from further action. "Miss Kazama? Yes, that's fine. I can make an appointment for you at 10:25 AM on Monday morning." As Chaolan predicted, Kazuya slowly sat himself back in the water. He clicked off the call and returned the receiver safely out of splashing distance. "Charming young lady." Kazuya glared at him. "You know she's an animal welfare officer, right?"

"I read the file."

"So, in your fantasy romance, is there a moment where you let her know what's happening in the Zaibatsu laboratories?"

"She doesn't need to know about that."

"So… what, you string someone along with a pack of lies who's just doing their job, because they _intrigue _you? You think she'll thank you for that?"

Kazuya waved him away, "Let me be. I don't know what I want. She's just strange. I want to see her again. Why is it such a big deal? You sleep with everything that moves."

"So you _do_ want to sleep with her!"

"I didn't say that! Shut up. I don't want to hear your irritating voice."

"This is my jacuzzi, _you _leave if you have a problem."

"Everything you have is yours because I give it to you."

"Thanks for the unnecessary reminder."

They both lapsed into a weary silence broken only by the gurgle of bubbling water and the crack of ice melting in the jug on the table, and the faint distant sounds of the city.

"Just don't go telling her all your secrets. Anything you think you feel is temporary. Everything in life is temporary. Except fucking family."

Kazuya looked over at his brother. Chaolan had put on a pair of sunglasses and had his head tilted back to the sky.

"I had no intention of telling anyone anything," Kazuya returned, a little testily.

"No one ever has any intentions like that. But sometimes things leak out when you think you care about someone. It's never worth it though."

"I think you and I have had very different experiences in that regard."

Chaolan pushed his glasses down so that he could look over the top of them. "There's never been anyone you've thought you care about?"

"You're surprised by this?"

Chaolan shrugged. "Not really. But I guess I thought-"

"You talk too much. I hope I don't have to have a list of all your ex-s drawn up and silenced because you've babbled Zaibatsu secrets to them."

It was Chaolan's turn to sit bolt upright. "Of course not. I'd never do anything to compromise you or the Zaibatsu. You know that." Kazuya sipped his drink and stayed silent. "Kaz?" A waver of uncertainty entered Chaolan's voice.

"I'm not going to waste Zaibatsu resources over your unsubtle love life, relax."

Chaolan breathed again. "I wish you wouldn't do that."

"Do what?"

"Just throw around your power like that. Make me sit through several seconds of heart attack, waiting to hear if people who are important to me are going to be executed. That kind of thing."

"_Important_ to you? Chaolan, please, you can pull that shit with other people but not with me. I know how shallow you really are. Every one of your 'love interests' has served to conveniently further your political contacts."

"That doesn't mean I didn't care about them!" Chaolan protested.

"Oh yeah? What was the name of the guy you brought to the family estate last winter?"

"That was _months_ ago, Kaz-"

"Yes, seven months ago. What was the name of your boyfriend seven months ago?"

"Do you mean Takumi?"

"Nope. That was spring."

"Well, it… it was-"

"It was Mori Satoshi, the son of that Kyoto investment banker. And how about the girlfriend after you dumped him? Remember her name?"

"Alright, alright, you've proved your point. How do _you_ remember them all?"

"Because I'm running background checks on them! And watching to make sure they don't sell Zaibtasu secrets after you open your big mouth in the bedroom."

"As if I would do such a thing!" Chaolan was scowling and sullen now. "You've really been spying on my romantic interests?" He drained his cocktail and set the glass on the poolside with a clink. He folded his arms. "Are you spying on Jae-suk right now?"

"Of course."

"Kaz!" He blew his hair out of his face in frustration. "Urgh, please don't tell me that blundering oaf Bruce Irvin has been watching all my intimate encounters."

"I'm not watching you have sex, _idiot_. I'm keeping tabs on what your flings are doing with the rest of their time. When you're banging people is the only time I know for sure they're not trading in my affairs."

"So now we're worried about how Chaolan's love life might be ruining the Zaibatsu, and we're going to totally ignore Kazuya getting pally with a cop?"

"If father could see this…" Kazuya muttered under his breath.

"He'd be fucking proud of you. You turned into a right little Heihachi the moment he was out of the picture."

Silence fell.

Chaolan covered his eyes with his hand. He could never just make life easy for himself. He breathed slowly through his nose.

"You want to explain what the fuck you mean by that?" Kazuya's voice was low and coarse, as if he was struggling with all his strength not to let violence get the better of him.

Chaolan stood and grabbed his towel and wrapped it round his waist.

"I didn't mean anything," he said, still not looking at Kazuya. He heard the water slosh as Kazuya stood. _Fuck. _He ran his hand through his hair. "It's the alcohol, I'm not thinking straight. Let it go."

He felt more than heard his brother step up behind him. Rough hands turned him round and Kazuya was far too close.

"I asked you: what the fuck do you mean by that." Kazuya's eyes were black coals under thunder dark eyebrows. There was that gathering pressure again, the pressure that made him unrecognisable to Chaolan.

"You were the one who brought him up…" Chaolan said uncertainly and a little sullenly. His chest tightened and he shrunk away as Kazuya's weight shifted. Chaolan's shoulders curled defensively. He bit his lip and screwed his eyes tight shut. He could feel Kazuya's breath on his face it smelt of tropical cocktails. A finger touched his chin. Chaolan wished Kazuya wouldn't do that – mix his fury with small fractional gestures that were familiar. He let his chin be lifted but kept his eyes firmly shut.

"Look at me." Kazuya's voice was knife quiet. All deadly and soft and lethal edges. Chaolan shook his head. "Tell me what you meant by that."

"Just that…" Chaolan could hear the hated tremble re-entering his voice. He despised that Kazuya could do that do him. It never used to be like this. "You-… The way you-…" The fingertip pressed under his chin more firmly. Chaolan shook his head. "I thought it would be different when he was gone." He opened his eyes timidly. The confirmation of that expected murderous expression before him did nothing for his nerves. Kazuya's eyes were wide with incensed anger now. "It was meant to be so much better under you." Chaolan's voice was quiet and filled with plaintive, muted things. "But the… violence…"

"Have I ever really hurt you?" Kazuya snapped.

"The control…"

"I let you live where and how you please. Date whoever you like. Give you enough to live in luxury."

"The humiliation…"

"Is that what this is about? Because I made you my fucking secretary and you think you're too good for it?" Chaolan glanced away. "How dense are you?!" Kazuya was up close and snarling into his face now. "You think I don't know you're overqualified? You think I made you take that position just because I like seeing you squirm under my foot? Who the fuck else am I going to give the position to?! You think I'm going to let some outsider know my every move? Plan my day? Know who my meetings are with? Who my business associates are? What projects I'm working on behind closed doors?" Kazuya pulled away and there were strange, unfamiliar things swirling in his eyes beyond just the usual anger. Chaolan's expression was shifting uncertainly in light of these new revelations. "And you have the fucking gall to say to my face that I'm like Heihachi. After all these fucking _years._"

"Kaz, I-"

"I thought you knew me better than that. I thought you knew why I kept you close. But you're just like everyone else. The moment I take power, no one can see anything beyond it. You're all jackals circling me. Even my own brother. Can't see beyond your own ambition. Willing to always believe the worst of me. There was a day when not even I had any faith in anything other than my desire to destroy Heihachi. I could see nothing beyond those flames. You know who still had optimistic hope then? Lee-fucking-Chaolan."

"That's not fair, Kazuya! You can't pretend that this is like then – like nothing's changed! You can't lay this all on me, like _I'm _the one that's the problem – can't you see what you're doing to this company? People are terrified! You _killed_ a man last month!"

"Are _you_ terrified, Chaolan?" Kazuya mocked.

"Yes!"

There was silence. The brothers looked at one another, and Chaolan felt the true weight of the distance that had grown between them for a long time now. A little of their old kinship was tugged by the fraction of hurt that flickered in Kazuya's face. Then it was gone, sealed over like every other human emotion inside Kazuya these days.

Kazuya flexed his shoulders and turned away imperiously. He snatched his towel from the poolside, and poured himself another cocktail even though the ice had all melted. He stalked to the edge of the rooftop. Mulling colours close to sunset moved through the sky, all bruised purples and bleeding reds, framing Kazuya and turning him a jet black silhouette. He sipped his drink.

Chaolan watched him, then turned away and walked back into his penthouse suite.

* * *

**Author Note: **And so begins a new tale. This is large work. Its a gangster crime drama/ romance set one year after the first King of the Iron Fist Tournament. It was meant to be a romance, but I've been writing gangster stories solidly for over two years now, so that all just slipped out. Some twists and crime drama elements dominating this very slow burn romance fic.

I owe some inspiration for this fic to Liquid_Sky who's ongoing fic _The Hardest Truth _is set in the same time period. If you haven't already, please go check out that story, as it's a beautiful tale with some fabulous original characters too! Other big inspirations are Kurosawa's _Drunken Angel_, which is well worth a watch and Kazuya down to a tee. Also the film _Fearless _which is a big fave of mine – without giving too much away, you can expect something of a redemption story like that here (with a couple of black tragic twists, but bear with me!)

Whilst being a stand-alone story, this fic can be read as a sequel to my fic _Fortified by Hate, _which focussed on young Kazuya and Chaolan. There'll be lots more brotherly shenanigans in this fic, and it's not all as dour as implied in these opening two chapters.

I'll be posting updates to this fic on my Twitter (erenaeoth), along with misdemeanours whilst trying to write it, and some good writing advice I've stumbled upon. You can also find me on tumblr with the same username.


	3. The Devil is in the Detail

Jun and Wulong stood sweating in the lobby of the Zaibatsu building. The metro had been delayed, and they'd had to run the last block to be here on time. The cool controlled temperature of reception was too little too late. Jun pulled her hairband off, swept her damp hair back, then refixed the band. This had not been the way she wanted to look in front of Mishima Kazuya. Not that she wanted to look any way in particular, she told herself. It was just that he was an influential personage, and it wouldn't do well to look unprofessional in front of someone like that. She checked her reflection. She'd wanted to put on a smarter uniform, but it was so hot out that she'd opted for practical instead. She sighed. It wasn't like her to get nervous before a meeting. She'd stood up to worse before and not felt this… apprehension.

"Yeesh, Kazama, I swear." Wulong was bent over double still catching his breath. "We're getting a squad car and that's the end of it. You can die on a hill with your morals but some of us do not need extra morning workout routines like this. Didn't Tanji offer you a car last week?"

Jun ignored him and strode up to the Zaibatsu reception. A smart woman in a black suit and tweed brown waistcoat greeted her. Her hair fell in artful twisted curls and her eyes were obscured by mirror lens glasses. Jun chewed her lip. Perhaps this was what Kazuya thought professional attire ought to look like.

"Can I help you?"

"Officer Kazama and Agent Lei. We have an appointment with Mr Mishima for 10:25?"

"Officer Kazama… yes I have you here." Jun smiled with relief. "But nothing about an Agent Lei."

"Oh…" Jun blinked. She'd forgotten to mention Wulong by name when she rung up Kazuya's office last week, but she had said 'we'… "Could you perhaps phone up to the secretary? Mr Lee can confirm the Agent Lei is with me."

The receptionist gave her a paper thin smile through pastel pink lipstick. Jun listened to the stunted part of the conversation she could hear. Eventually the receptionist set the receiver back down.

"Mr Lee says the appointment is for you, not your colleague."

"Yes, but-"

"He says, that Mr Mishima says, and I quote 'Agent Lei can go and f- himself'. The the 'f-' being-"

"Yes, thank-you, that's quite clear. One moment, please," Jun made to walk away.

"Don't take too long. He doesn't see latecomers."

Jun's heart sunk. She gave a quick smile and hurried over to Wulong.

"Bad news."

"What, there a hitsquad on route?"

Jun gave him a disapproving look. "Mr Mishima doesn't want you in the meeting. They won't let you in."

"What? And after I ran from the train?" Wulong scratched his chin. "Shit, they're already trying to separate us and weaken us. Okay, Kazama, listen up, you're going to have to do the interview on your own." He pulled out his notepad.

"Lei, I don't have time to talk. I'm going to be late."

"In here are all my notes. The front has my case notes. Back page has my suspicions, don't lay those on him, but it might help you push the conversation direction in some interesting ways."

"Lei, I have to go."

"Get him uncomfortable. Get him talking about stuff he hasn't prepared a textbook answer for. Set him on edge. But don't push him over the edge, I do have him down for suspected homicide on the back page."

"You what?" Jun glanced at him.

"Get going, Kazama, get going!" He pushed her into an elevator. A second later Jun was alone with the notepad and mirror walls and some unsettling kabuki theatre elevator music that set her teeth on edge. She held the notepad tightly.

When she was shown into Lee Chaolan's office, he was sitting with his shoes up on his desk in a pure white suit, silken hair brushed until it was soft and flyaway. Jun immediately felt self-conscious about her appearance again.

"You're late," he said, by way of greeting. Jun could feel his eyes scouring her in a way they hadn't last time. She felt very uncomfortable. There were strange emotions coming off him – curiosity, irritation, jealousy… or not. Sometimes in controlled people the emotions became distorted, blurred, indistinct. She shook her head.

"Sorry…" she said hesitantly, "the metro was delayed… I knew I should have left earlier."

"You came by train?" This seemed to amuse him, and that made Jun feel even more uncomfortable. The phone on Chaolan's desk rang, he picked it up idly, eyes still on Jun. "Shout any louder and she'll hear you through your bulletproof glass wall," he said to the phone then put it down again. "He's in one of his charming moods, please, go ahead." He gestured to the door.

Jun's apprehension grew until it was a thick knot in her stomach. She placed her palm on the handle to Kazuya's office. The metal felt clammy under her hot hand.

She entered the room. The door swung shut behind her. The office was spacious, all dark bamboo – sleek and modern with a touch of the traditional. She was vaguely aware of low seating and smooth coffee tables towards her right and large windows onto a giddy view on her left. Her attention to detail wavered, however, in the all-consuming pressure of the presence before here. Mishima Kazuya was seated behind a large desk with a desktop computer occupying most of it, and a set of in-trays with neat stacks of paper aligned in them at the other end. She stood straight and still and quiet, like she would if she were approaching a wild animal in the mountains. She centred herself and drew peace to her. Almost immediately, the room felt less oppressive and the dominant swirl of hate and anger subsided. Kazuya gestured to a seat before his desk.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she began, taking the seat and pulling out a notepad from her gilet. She frowned at it – it was Wulong's. She pulled out a her own notepad from another pocket then felt down her jacket for her pen. An ornate fountain pen was offered to her. She looked up and got an eyeful of that intense Mishima gaze that had been recurring in her dreams for the last few nights. "… Thanks." She took the pen reverently. Its craftmanship was beautiful. She pulled off the cap and saw that the nib was engraved silver with curling patterns down it. She felt small and a long way from home. She put the pen to her page and the heavy ink instantly soaked through several flimsy pages of her notepad. She swallowed.

"A problem, Officer Kazama?"

"No, no problem," she gave him a quick smile. She was surprised to see him still holding steady eye contact, and that her smile set him at ease. He sat back and interlocked his fingers, resting them on his desk.

"Can I get you any refreshments?"

"No that's…" She hesitated. The less she received from this man, the less uneven their footing would feel, but on the other hand, she was hot and had had to skip breakfast.

"Tea?" She nodded. "Iced?" She nodded again. "Something to eat?" She chewed her lip. He gave her a smile that was tipped with cunning, "I see. I'll have some breakfast brought up. Is fish not to your liking?"

She blinked. So he'd noticed she hadn't touched the sushi last week. That was unsettling.

"I… observe the temple diet when I can." It felt like an oddly personal thing to admit to him.

"I see. I can't say I'm surprised." He held down the intercom button on his desk microphone. "Chaolan. Iced tea. And some breakfast for the officer. No meat or dairy."

"Yes, your highness."

"You're on intercom, Chaolan."

"Fuck. Sorry, Miss Kazama."

"It's officer, actually." Jun said to the voice on the intercom. A grin escaped Kazuya before he cut his brother off.

"Please excuse him, he disapproves of me meeting with officers of the law."

"Something he doesn't want me to discover?" Jun asked innocently.

Kazuya's eyebrows lowered and for a moment Jun was worried, then a slight smirk tugged on Kazuya's lips.

"That good-for-nothing interpol agent is rubbing off on you, Officer Kazama."

"He's in the lobby downstairs," Jun recalled a little wistfully, "I don't suppose he could join us for the interview, could he?"

"Officer Kazama, you seem like a sensible young woman. How can I put this politely, I'd sooner jump off a building than spend a moment longer in Mr Lei's presence."

This time it was Jun's turn accidentally let a smile escape.

"I suppose I should be glad my presence hasn't been counted as abhorrent as all that then."

Kazuya passed a tongue over his lower lip and frowned, looking away slightly. Jun blinked. Was he… embarrassed? Kazuya cleared his throat.

"There were, ah – questions you wanted to ask, Officer? Questions not pertaining to the powerplant."

Jun was completely thrown by the fact that someone she'd only thus far really seen on news bulletins was flustered in front of her.

"Yes…" She pushed her hair behind her ear to do something with her hands. Her hair was damp. She cursed herself coming here looking anything other than her best. "I understand that the Zaibatsu is a very big organisation and that you have laboratories in many different countries where the laws are different to here, but I was wondering if I could talk to you about your labs here in Japan. Specifically about animals testing."

Kazuya stood abruptly. Jun's face ticked to impatient. He opened the door and someone in a suit bowed and offered him a tray. Kazuya nodded and set the tray in front of Jun. He came around the other side of the desk and sat back down. Jun tried not to stare at the tray. It was made from three different colours of cherrywood with enamel inlays in the shape of flying cherry blossoms. She couldn't help reaching out and touching the fine craftsmanship. She looked up and saw Kazuya watching her. Her cheeks heated and she poured herself some chilled tea. There was only one cup, she was dismayed to see.

"Would you like some?" She felt foolish asking. He shook his head. The food before her was immaculately separated into beautiful handmade bowls, each aswirl with the earthen colours of glazed pottery. Even the chopsticks felt heavy and well-made in her hands, also set with mother-of-pearl inlay. She was aware of Kazuya's eyes on her, but set to sampling the dishes. The food was good. Fresh and plain, but filled with flavour.

"How's the food?"

"Fine," she said, before she could stop herself. Kazuya's eyebrows raised. "I mean, it's good." She corrected. "The best Shojin Ryori I've had in the city." He was still watching her with amused intensity. "I mean, it can only be so fresh, is all, when you live in the city. And the ingredients come from the mountains. I mean- it's just- I used to collect the ingredients myself when I was young, and my mother would make it from what I'd picked so-… oh – I didn't mean to cause offence, please forgive me."

"No offence taken, Officer Kazama." He sat back in his chair and watched her with that same bemused look on his face. The room distilled into a silence that lingered between awkward and content. "So you lived in the mountains? Where abouts?"

"Don't you have a file on me, warning you all about me, Mr Mishima?"

"I do, but it hardly makes polite conversation to admit as much."

"Yakushima Island."

"Yakushima? You're a long way from home."

Jun looked out the window. The Tokyo cityscape outside the top floor window of the Mishima Zaibatsu tower rammed that home more than most things. She drew in a heavy breath. Now wasn't the time to let her heart get caught up in the things she'd left behind.

"Yakushima is with me wherever I go." She gave him a quick smile. "Would you mind if I asked you about your laboratories?"

His eyes seemed more mellow than before.

"Ask away."

She set down her chopsticks.

"Do your laboratories use animal testing?"

"Yes," he replied, "but it's all according to legal procedure."

"Including the procurement of all animals involved in the testing?"

"Of course, Officer."

"Are you aware that the animals your corporation uses suffer pain as a result of experimentation?"

"Life is pain, Officer. But if you must know, my corporation has been instrumental in the wider implementation, where possible, of Russell and Burch's Three Rs to reduce unnecessary pain in animal testing."

"Are you a spiritual man, Mr Mishima?"

"Are you, Officer Kazama?"

"I believe there is a balance to all life, and that as those who tread heavily on the earth, we ought to have a care for the consequences of our footsteps."

"If you believe in a balance to life, you must concede that death too, is a natural phenomenon. We're all animals, Officer. Just some of us have made it to the top."

"Have you made it to the top, Mr Mishima?"

"Take a look at the view for yourself." He gestured to the window.

Jun's eyes bored into him. She looked down at the notepad in her lap. Her fingers were shaking slightly, so she picked up the pad. It was Wulong's. She flicked it open to the back page. _Suspected of several counts of homicide. Four employees missing in last year. Possible poisoning of rival business partner (spring this year). Suspected involvement in the disappearance of father Mishima Heihachi (murder?). Known involvement and links to HK Triad black market arms trade, drug cartels, smuggling (large animals, antiquity artefacts? fossils Siberia?). Indirect control of Yakuza in Japan? armed militias + hitmen confirmed Japan, possible assassin reach beyond this – international network? Ties to Brazilian cartels and Irish terrorism. _She shut the notepad before she read any further.

"This was a mistake," she said quietly and sat back.

"Why?" A fraction of irritability sounded in his voice. "I've answered all your questions. What more do you want?"

"You've prepped answers to all these questions."

"So ask me something I'm not expecting."

"Why do you treat your secretary so unfairly, he's your brother, isn't he?"

Kazuya's eyes darkened. Jun held his stare. There was quiet in the office save the faint hum of air conditioning.

"What makes you think I treat him unfairly?" he said at last, guarded and testy.

"When I last came here, he was deeply unhappy."

Kazuya waved a hand dismissively and sat back. "We had a disagreement, nothing more."

"He was frightened."

"And you're an expert in reading my family now, Officer Kazama?"

Jun blushed but continued to hold his stare. "What happened to the man who died in your employ last month?"

"He was working with heavy machinery when a fault developed and the machine collapsed, injuring him. Health and safety precautions have since been revised. His next of kin receives ample compensation from the Zaibatsu each month."

"What about the other man?"

"What other man?"

"The second man who died last month."

"There was no second man."

She could see it now, the look that Wulong had told her to be on the hunt for. She flicked through Wulong's notepad until she got to his details on the case.

"A man collapsed in this very building last month, said to have been a heart-attack."

"If that's what was said, who am I to question a coroner's report?"

"The man's family never received a body back from the Zaibatsu." She flicked open her own notepad, noticing a similarity. "And neither did the family from the other incident."

"You have your story wrong. The Zaibatsu offered the use of our personal crematorium. The ashes were delivered to both families."

"Did you release the bodies to the families or not?"

"Of course."

"So there are photographs? Of the bodies? Of them laid out before the cremation?"

"Do you photograph your dead relatives before you burn them, Officer Kazama?" he snapped.

She looked at him. There were hurt things in the air. There was a faint anxious pressure too, but just then it was dwarfed by regret and hurt and bitterness. She frowned slightly as she tried to parse his emotions. On seeing her hesitate, his feelings ploughed back into hate, much more potent than before.

"Are we done, or do you have any more stupid questions to ask?"

Hurt registered on her face then. She tried to remember what Wulong had said – that the closer they got to truths, the more ugly the Mishima Zaibatsu would get. Even then though, she found it hard to see the sheer mass of the corporation, and not the defensive man before her. There had been real things there for a moment. Real hurt, real injury, real loss, before the curtains were pulled and everything flowed back into rage.

"I always have more stupid questions, Mr Mishima. But I don't want to impose and I don't want to upset you."

"I'm hardly upset," he snapped at her.

She was calm in the face of his anger. She could feel it growing, towering and monstrous before her, all churning and spitting, but couldn't bring herself to feel anything but pity in the face of it.

"Thank you for breakfast." She stood, catching sight of the tray with its intricate inlay again. So many beautiful things surrounded his man who was so consumed he couldn't notice nothing outside the objects of his anger. "This is stunning by the way," she pointed at the craftsmanship. He grunted and folded his arms, glancing away. "Can I speak with you again some time?"

He turned and glared at her. She waited patiently, expression serene and impassive. Her inside were curling up with dismay. She so wished she could rewind time to that slight smile he'd given her earlier, and the way his eyes held hers with an intelligence and respect so missing from other areas of her life. This wasn't how this meeting had ended in her dreams.

"Whatever." He shrugged. "Make an appointment with Chaolan if you need one."

"I'd like to speak with you though, not him. Is that alright?"

"Easier to get information out of me?" he said instantly, bitterness in his voice. She could see he regretted letting that slip. She wondered for a moment if he were perhaps as disappointed as she was with the direction the meeting had gone.

"I prefer your company," she returned.

"_Hah. _I find that hard to believe. See yourself out. Good day, Officer Kazama."

She bowed as she left, but he had already turned his back to her.

* * *

Kazuya watched the shut door for a long time after Kazama Jun had left. Being around her put him on edge, made him unsure of himself in a way that felt honest and dangerous. There was something intoxicating about this odd dance that happened when they were in a room together. He'd let her get under his skin though, let her pry too far, just like Chaolan had warned him against. His anger wasn't the usual kind. He felt irritated, awkward, like someone had stolen his suit jacket just before he had to give some important speech. A layer that was needed for respectability, needed to shield him from the ever hunting eyes of his enemies, was missing.

He held down the intercom button on his desk but said nothing. He kept his finger on it so that no answer could be relayed back.

Eventually the door to his office opened and Chaolan's head appeared.

"Everything okay?"

Kazuya said nothing, his shoulders slumped and he looked away.

"Kaz…" Chaolan's voice went soft and he slipped into the room and came round behind the office chair. He set his hands on Kazuya's shoulders. "Kaz…" he said gently again, "I tried to warn you…" Kazuya jerked his head slightly in acknowledgement. Chaolan began massaging his shoulders and the contact felt important, one of the few small places in Kazuya's life that were not dictated by distance and control. He let the tension go out of his posture and he melted back into his chair. "Do I need to stop her leaving the building?" Kazuya shook his head. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Kazuya frowned and closed his eyes, focussing on the fingers working tightness out of his muscles.

"Just as you said. A police officer doing her job. Always trying to pull my words apart to see beyond them."

"We knew this would happen," Chaolan said gently.

"I know. But… there was something different. When…" Kazuya ground his teeth in irritation, trying to find the right words. There was a calmness he felt around Kazama Jun, like he could hear his own thoughts for the first time in years. Like who he was and the things he could do didn't dictate the way she addressed him or held herself around him. He shook his head. "I said she could make another appointment."

The fingers on his shoulders paused.

"You did? Why?"

Kazuya shrugged. "I don't know. Was easier than saying no. Don't give her one if she calls."

"Of course." Chaolan's hands squeezed lightly. "Want to get some sparring in?"

Kazuya's eyes opened slowly. "Your itinerary said I have appointments all day."

"Nothing vital. I can move them or cancel them. You're not going to get much done when you're frustrated anyway."

"Will you spar with me?"

It was an odd thing to hear. These days Kazuya rarely asked anything of Chaolan. There interactions were mostly orders or arguments.

"Of course." He could hear the smile in Chaolan's words, and that settled some of the discomfort inside him.

* * *

"You don't have to live there even if you think you ought to keep it."

Chaolan was driving an open top convertible down almost deserted country roads. There were many places they'd passed that would have offered an opportunity for a training session away from the gaze of the public. He had small gym of his own attached to his penthouse apartment that would have served just as well. Kazuya was insistent though: he wanted to train in the dojo. _The _dojo. The dojo they'd grown up in. A good hour outside Tokyo, the Mishima Estate was still lived in by Kazuya on weekends, though Chaolan couldn't for the life of him think why. He'd tried to put the place as far behind him as he could, and only ever returned at Kazuya's insistence.

"I already told you." Kazuya was irritable and sullen. "I have to look like I'm continuing on the legacy. People already think the worst of me. I don't need to add fuel to the fire and have them asking why I let the estate go to ruin."

"But isn't it-... Don't you find it-...? I don't think I could stick it. A place like that. Full of so many ghosts and nightmares."

"Better than nothing, isn't it?" Kazuya said, just a little coldly.

Chaolan glanced up from the road, eyebrows raised. He returned his attention to driving and said nothing. It was crass and callous of Kazuya to bring up the fact that Chaolan had had nowhere and nothing before the Mishimas, and they both knew it. Living under Heihachi's roof had never been anything to boast about. Kazuya himself had frequently wondered out loud why someone would voluntarily choose to live the life he did. Chaolan had privately wondered the same just as often.

They pulled up before an ancient wooden archway set with electronic security gates. They swung open for the convertible and shut behind as the car purred up the driveway. The road before them was darker now, overhung by old looming red cedars with thick foliage that shadowed the drive. The woody smell of damp mulch permeated the air. They both sat a little straighter and a heavy silence grew between them.

Shortly, the avenue opened onto a large traditional family estate: all one storey but with high ornate pagoda roofs. A shaded raised walkway wound its way around the exterior of the buildings and the walls themselves were all treated wood with peeling but still regal red paint for the doorways.

Chaolan parked the car. Birds were calling to one another, hidden in the trees above, and a pair of doves were cooing. There was a splatter of running water coming from the manicured gardens far over in their right and the smell of woodsmoke filled their senses, all hauntingly familiar. Chaolan swallowed.

"I wish you wouldn't make me come back here."

"It's all ours now."

"It doesn't feel like it. It feels like he's about to walk out from any corner at any moment." Chaolan shivered.

A side door slid open and one of the housekeepers stepped out. She collected her shoes, stepped into them, then hurried to meet the brothers. Kazuya got out the car and slammed the door shut behind him. Chaolan sighed and followed suit.

"Master Kazuya, Master Chaolan. We weren't expecting you. We are honoured to receive you both. Shall I have your rooms prepared? Will you take lunch and dinner here?"

"I won't be needing my room," Chaolan put in swiftly. Even the idea of seeing the place was making him feel ill. "I'm just here for a few hours to use the dojo."

"Prepare it anyway," Kazuya put in, "you know how indecisive he can be."

The housekeeper bowed to them both. "Very well, Master Mishima. There will be food prepared and waiting for you when you finish in the dojo." She bowed again and left.

"What part of 'I'm just here for a few hours' sounded indecisive to you?" Chaolan glared at Kazuya as he led them round the back of the houses and through the gardens. Chaolan swallowed his indignation as they walked. The gardens were just as he remembered them. Immaculate, untouched by the stray fingers of playing children. Perfectly trimmed bonsai trees leaned out over glassy pools and rockery formations. A fountain bubbled, made to look like a natural stream. It sent some of its water into carefully arranged tipping buckets that rocked backward and forwards, spilling their contents alternately when they were filled. "Who keeps these now that he's gone?"

Kazuya gave a rough shrug. "Couple of gardeners. Wang Jinrei still tends them from time to time too."

"You let him stay here? I thought you hated him."

"He knows too much to send him elsewhere. He'll probably die soon anyway. He's not worth the fuss."

"Huh. I bet Father said the same thing when he took over." Kazuya gave him a warning glance. Chaolan caught it and amended his statement quickly. "I just meant – wasn't Jinrei your Grandfather's friend? I'm kind of impressed he's managed to stay put despite two generations of Mishimas hating him."

"Very easy to do if you have no spine."

Chaolan sighed and relegated this conversation to another not worth pursuing. It was true that the old man, Wang Jinrei, fitted himself into the background and only muttered his disagreements with Heihachi and Kazuya in a soft, insignificant voice. Chaolan wouldn't call that cowardice though – after nearly twenty years of similar tactics himself, he preferred to call it survival.

The dojo was set back from the rest of the house. It alone looked well kept and in pristine condition. Chaolan pulled off his shoes and stepped up onto its platform. He could feel the well-oiled wood, slightly pliant under his feet. The walls were clean and bright as they always had been in his childhood – scrubbed down after ever bout and lesson – scrubbed free of the parts of themselves they left in here: blood, sweat, perhaps even some tears, though those were to be hidden at all costs.

It was uncanny how little the place had changed since his childhood. Chaolan could feel the years slipping off him, and the overwhelming anxiety to perform well, to prove his worth, to avoid his father's wrath came slithering home like a fat nostalgic snake. The same old black and white photograph of Mishima Jinpachi stood in the small shrine against the far wall of the dojo. Heihachi, in his death, had not taken up pride of place next to his deceased father. A small but very Kazuya-kind of detail that Chaolan did not fail to notice.

Chaolan busied himself opening up a bag with a spare change of clothes he'd brought with him. He might be back in these familiar grounds, but it wasn't like he had to abide by the old man's stickling rules any more. He pulled out a tank top and comfortable leggings. His old gi was probably still in the house somewhere, collecting dust in the cupboard it had stayed in since their father's death. Warm, tender gratitude toward his brother flowed from him, as it always did when he had chance to recall the prison Kazuya had loosed them from.

Chaolan changed quickly, and looked back round to see Kazuya in his gi. Admittedly he'd forgone his top, and was displaying that hideous jagged scar across his chest for all the world to see, but it was still only steps removed from the tradition he'd grown up with. _We can destroy our father, but not the legacy he left behind, nor the ghost that haunts all our choices. He sunk his claws so deep into us, we've forgotten what was ours and what was his._

"You got much practice in recently?" Kazuya asked, starting to stretch off. He sounded younger. The world had always been simpler to understand within these walls. They knew what was required of them. Here – even when pitted against each other – they were always the united front, never loosing sight of their common foe.

"Not as much as I should have. I get a little in each morning, but not enough to push myself. You?"

"Same." Kazuya flexed his back and reached his arms to the rafters, letting his fingers click. "I come here on the weekends and get more in then. And occasionally I drop in on the Zaibatsu security training to make sure our recruits are still in shape, but they're rarely much of a challenge. Bruce can still give me a good run though."

"In fairness to those men, there are fewer sights more terrifying than your boss appearing to beat the shit out of you."

"They should be prepared for anything. If they can't rise to a challenge, they're no good to me."

Chaolan gave him a slightly stiff smile. "Well, I can only hope I live up to your standards."

Kazuya rolled his eyes.

"You're hardly some run-of-the-mill Zaibatsu member. And I'd be hard pressed to find a better opponent in Japan. Stop fishing for compliments." Chaolan's eyes had gone soft and his cheeks had coloured faintly. It had been rare to hear anything like affirmation during their childhood and Kazuya always knew how much it meant to him to hear small throwaway words of appreciation. Chaolan gave him a brilliant smile and Kazuya sighed. "You're so predictable." Kazuya sounded weary but there was a hidden strain of fondness under there.

"If I'm so predictable, I should be easy to defeat." Chaolan held up his guard and gave another mischievous smile.

Kazuya raised an eyebrow. "Happy to prove that point any time." Kazuya cricked his neck and rolled his shoulders.

"Keep it light. We have a company to run and one of us in hospital isn't going to make that any easier."

"You're the one who always escalates things."

"Well I don't intend to today."

They were circling each other as they spoke now. Chaolan was already watching his brother's movements carefully – the lean of his weight, the slight pull back of his fists as he feigned an opening move. Chaolan could feel the thrill of the fight starting to stir in his veins. It had been a long time since they sparred – a long time since he'd felt on equal ground with Kazuya in anything. There was something exhilarating about finally having this opportunity again – this opportunity to prove that he was his equal, this opportunity for mutual respect to flourish, this opportunity to really hit Kazuya after all the anger and fear he'd made Chaolan feel over the last year since he'd taken over as head of the Mishima family.

A hardness entered Chaolan's heart, and he saw his brother look faintly amused as he noticed the change. That only made Chaolan's face darken.

"Careful, Chaolan." Kazuya's step was easy. His bare feet on the dojo floor were faint, padding footsteps, like a panther stalking its prey. "Don't start something you can't finish."

"I said I'd keep it light, didn't I? You're the one who can't keep a lid on his temper lately." Chaolan knew his tone was terse and littered with all the bitter things he'd endured. Kazuya didn't need to say anything in response to that; they could both hear the edge in Chaolan's voice.

Kazuya threw the first punch. It was light, testing the distance between them, and devoid of intent. The idea that Kazuya was treating this as a game when he'd already noticed how much the match meant to his brother only served make Chaolan grind his teeth more.

"And I thought this sparring session was to calm _my_ nerves down," Kazuya mused, keeping his guard almost lazy.

Chaolan kept his attention focussed, trying not to rise to Kazuya's bait. Ten years ago he could have easily kept up with his brother, but he wasn't under any illusions after the way Kazuya had annihilated his competition at the fated tournament their late father had organised. Neither was Kazuya one to let himself go after so clearly demonstrating the importance of physical prowess when it came to holding power within the Zaibatsu. He could see that confidence in Kazuya's eyes as they continued to mirror each others' footwork. There was not even a fraction of doubt in his mind. He absolutely believed he was going to win. That made Chaolan's chest tighten and his own confidence waver. He already was giving ground, he realised. Their footwork was impeccable, but before they'd even started, Kazuya had him on the back foot edging into his space and making Chaolan step back.

A flare of irritation rose in him and Chaolan lashed out, throwing a jab cross. Kazuya blocked it easily and tutted faintly. Chaolan's eyes flashed. He came within striking distance, watching hawkishly as Kazuya let him, interested to see what he would do. Chaolan came in close, but instead of punching, leaned back and used his flexibility to throw a surprise snap kick to the head. Kazuya blinked but blocked the kick. Chaolan immediately followed it up with a punch to the gut, but before his fist connected, a solid punch clipped his jaw and his vision went to black spots. He leapt back quickly, but Kazuya followed. Chaolan darted out the way of a knee, and parried a series of punches. He moved back faster, trying to put distance between himself and Kazuya's momentum. He caught a glimpse of his brother's face, still watching him rather than concentrating on the fight. Chaolan cursed internally as Kazuya relented and let space open up between them again. His brother was in better shape than he'd been hoping. Chaolan used the spare seconds to regain his breath.

"Everything alright, little brother?"

"Just fine," Chaolan bit off. He hated seeing Kazuya this smug. Chaolan used to be one of the only people that could make him work in the ring or the dojo; it was infuriating to see Kazuya so sedate like this.

Chaolan changed tack. He let his famous cool calm come to the fore, and pushed his bitterness into deeper darker recesses. He needed to be quick and unpredictable if he wanted to stand a chance. He rolled his shoulders and breathed more steadily. He had his back to the main exit of the dojo. It was easy to imagine that Heihachi was there, just behind him, hunting his movements for mistakes. Chaolan had to be better than perfect, he had to prove that he'd earned his place under this roof. He remembered the way Kazuya's eyes had looked then: agitated, anxious not to be shown up by someone younger, someone not Mishima by blood, someone who wasn't meant to be able to best him. His anxieties and fears had always given Chaolan a way in. The man before him now was not that same teenager. Broad shouldered, silent, confident, in his essence – knowing that he owned and ruled the world and had thrown his own nightmares off a cliff and to an early grave: Kazuya didn't have the flaws he'd had when they were children. He didn't need the ghost of Heihachi to spur him to perfection. _We're both still struggling to step out from under his long shadow though. I'm not alone in that. _Chaolan smiled internally.

"Didn't want to put father's photo next to your grandfather's?" Chaolan asked. Kazuya hesitated at the question, then his eyes set again. He didn't deign to give that a response. "Seems only fair – he was still the head of Mishima Ryu – your sensei for many years."

"He doesn't get that honour," Kazuya said roughly. He was concentrating now, clearly aware that Chaolan was trying to shake his resolve.

"You honour him by using his karate, running his company, keeping his house, tending his gardens," Chaolan mocked.

"I do not _honour_ him through any of those things," Kazuya was trying to keep his voice even, but Chaolan had always known how to press his buttons.

"Might as well put him in the fucking shrine, Kaz. He's as good as there anyway."

"Shut up!" Kazuya snarled. He lunged forward with a powerful fist, but it was reckless, and absent of the lethal control he'd shown earlier. Chaolan sidestepped it and batted it aside with a backfist aiming for the pressure points on his tricep. Kazuya grunted and jerked his arm back. Chaolan's eyes were sharp and incisive. Before Kazuya had fully righted himself, Chaolan came in with a round kick off his back foot. Kazuya brought his elbow down to cover his exposed ribs, but Chaolan's kick slammed into the same arm he'd just hit before. He saw the fractional crease around Kazuya's eyes that meant there was pain. Then he came in with a punch for Kazuya's face, ducked around him and slammed an uppercut up through his guard. Kazuya reeled from the punch, but brought his guard in tight, snapping around the arm Chaolan had thrust up. Kazuya pulled the arm to his chest, swivelled and dropped his weight through it, hurling Chaolan to the ground. Chaolan blinked at the pain and bit his lip when he realised the lock was still on. Kazuya pinned him to the ground with a knee to his ribs and kept twisting his wrist. Chaolan struggled, and then abruptly stopped when he felt all the space go out of the lock. He tapped the dojo floor and winced as Kazuya let the lock push a little deeper and a little more painful before he let him go. Chaolan rolled away and bounced back up.

"Your tricks won't work on me any more, Chaolan."

Chaolan shook out his arm, flexing his wrist and the tense muscles. He breathed out through his nose, steadying himself as his heart hammered. He painted a smile onto his face.

"They looked like they were working alright to me."

They were circling again. Chaolan opened and closed his hand once more before tightening it into a fist and raising his guard.

Kazuya abruptly pushed into his space with a front kick. Chaolan turned it aside with a low block then snapped his guard high in anticipation of a follow up punch. Instead, Kazuya stamped his foot down then drove it back up as a knee into Chaolan's chest. The air came out of Chaolan with a whoosh and he curled over. An elbow came in for his head but Chaolan ducked, slipping in and out of his brother's heavy attacks. He leaned his weight back and got another foot up between them snapping it into Kazuya's chin and then pulling it back before Kazuya could grab it and go for another lock. A stunned look crossed Kazuya's face for a moment and Chaolan danced back. He feigned a punch but pulled it back at the last second, coming in with his other leg this time, curling a crescent kick before him that struck Kazuya in the chest, then, pulling the same leg back with the remainder of the momentum, he straightened it and kicked his brother hard in the head. Vindication flashed on Chaolan's face as Kazuya stumbled. Chaolan kept Kazuya in range and came back in again, favouring another series of high kicks. He caught Kazuya's head behind his knee and spun him to the ground. A smirk slid onto Chaolan's lips as he stood over his brother.

Kazuya was slow getting up, and Chaolan was eager to press his advantage. He flitted close, wary of a grab that would turn this into a ground fight, but keen to keep the height advantage he'd gained. Kazuya planted a hand and pushed himself up a little. His eyes were red.

Chaolan froze. The light, surely. Or perhaps Chaolan had caught him in the eye with a kick.

Kazuya's movements were sluggish, lumbering, and sweat stood out in beads on the thick brown muscles in his arms. His black hair was askew and his breathing was heavy. There was a mark on Kazuya's forehead: a slit like a cut, vertical in the skin. It widened. Chaolan took a step back. The slit opened further and something moved inside it. A small globe turned in the slit and looked out through the flesh, and suddenly Kazuya had not two red eyes but three.

* * *

Kazuya had underestimated Chaolan's flexibility again. He had lost count of the times he'd been adamant that they were too closely engaged for his brother to get a head kick in, only to be proved painfully incorrect. His father would have been livid if he'd seen Kazuya fall for that again. He would have dragged him aside and given him an extra memento of the occasion.

The first kick had sent him reeling and his head spinning, and those that followed were a blur, rattling his skull as a startled embarrassment bloomed inside him. The final throw sent him hard to the dojo floor. The familiar feel of that wood under his cheek brought sharp spikes of anxiety into his head. _Get up. Get up. _He could hear the desperate urging of his own thoughts. Any moment he would feel Heihachi's hand on the back of his neck, ramming his head into the floor, or yanking him upright. Memories collided in those long seconds, and the rational part of his mind tried to seize control. Heihachi was dead. Heihachi was dead. And fear and anger and hate and despair and shame and so much fury coursed through him like it had when he fought his father. Darkness curled into his thoughts. A thick black acrid smog sent tendrils through his limbs, through his vision, through his memories. He was five years old dying in a ravine. He was twenty-five years old and needed that last strength to strike down his father. He was losing his temper in board meeting at a man who wouldn't shut up. He was irritated at an employee who was delivering a series of poor reports on the Zaibatsu's recent purchases. The reasons became less and less reasonable each time he drew on that power, and the consequences became more and more severe.

It was the crying that drew him back from the edge.

It punctured his mind like a knife and sent him back to the years of his youth: he was wandering through dark corridors trying to find the source of the sound. It was a muted kind of half sobbing. He'd once heard a dog make a noise like that. The dog had been beaten in a back alley and was hiding in a paper bag. It was making a strangled noise of necessity – like it desperately wanted not to be found, but couldn't help but expel its small helpless noises of pain and distress. He'd traced the noise in the halls of his own home and found Chaolan at the end of it. He was in the corner of his new room. He was still thin and pale and bony, with sharp cheeks and so many ribs showing that Kazuya still felt a pang of guilt whenever he beat him to the dojo floor. Kazuya had approached warily. The dog in the back alley had bitten him after all, and his father had immediately reproached him for his compassion. Chaolan hadn't bitten him though. He'd looked at him with wide eyes and tearstained cheeks and naked fear: a look that had stayed with Kazuya for years later. He'd sworn that night that he'd defeat Heihachi not just for himself but also for Chaolan. He'd make it so that he never had to cry like that again – hiding in the dark of his new home, terrified and in pain.

When his vision cleared the first thing he saw was his own shadow. It was shrinking from monstrous twisting shapes back into familiar ones. The second thing he saw was his brother curled up before him. His arms were braced over his head and lacerated with thick red burn lines. His shoulders were shaking and his silvery hair was pressed into his knees. There was that sound. That awful sound he'd sworn to eliminate from this estate. The soft, whimpering crying of one who does not want to be seen.

"Chaolan?" His voice sounded strange to his ears – like he was walking out of a cave and the echoes were still chasing him.

The sobbing paused, although the shaking did not. They were in the far corner of the dojo. Mishima Jinpachi's photograph had fallen to the floor and crack ran through its glass. Kazuya looked behind him, there was a new dent in the woodwork of one of the walls, and a smear of blood trailing from the centre of the dojo to the corner Chaolan was curled in.

Kazuya lowered himself until he was squatting.

"Chaolan?" he said again, this time with more urgency. He reached out uncertainly and touched his brother's shoulder. Chaolan flinched away and pressed himself further up against the corner. "You're alright." Kazuya fell back into the soothing voice he hadn't used in years. "You're okay." Chaolan was still trying to smother all the sounds of his tears. Self-loathing was beginning to rear its head within Kazuya. He fought it down. He placed a firm hand on his brother's head. "Look at me." Nothing. This time panic started to flutter in him. He reached and found his brother's chin, grasped it, and forced him to look at him. The face that he saw was ghastly pale and the eyes were looking at him like he was alien, but a quick survey didn't reveal any injuries. "Where are you hurt?" Kazuya asked, all business. Chaolan was still giving him that disconnected look of wild terror. Kazuya knelt next to him and brushed the crazed streaks of silver hair out of his face. "Talk to me. Where are you injured? Do you need a hospital?" He'd never seen Chaolan this unresponsive whilst he was still conscious before. He put his arm around Chaolan's shoulders and softened his voice. "Talk to me," he murmured, "come on." He drew his brother to him, uncoiling some of his lanky limbs as he did so. There was a tear through the fabric of his shirt like an animal had raked his side. It wasn't deep, but it was soaking his brother's clothes in blood. Another set of claw marks had shredded through the fabric of his far shoulder. These marks were thinner but still left jagged lines across the fair skin. "Alright. It's alright." Kazuya's insides were turning. He pulled Chaolan closer to him in an awkward embrace and rested his cheek against the top of his head. His hair was silky and his breath was ragged.

"Y-you..." Chaolan whispered. His voice was in pieces. "Y-you weren't... human."

"Hush." Kazuya pulled him closer, careful to avoid his brother's injuries. "It's alright now, it's over."

"Y-you weren't... -"

"Quiet now, don't exert yourself. The injuries aren't bad, we can tend to them here. We need to get those burns looked at right away and we need to stop the bleeding."

"I... I know what I saw... Y-you weren't-"

"Hush, hush. You don't know what you're saying."

"I _do._" A little strength returned to Chaolan's voice. "Your eyes, your face, you had-"

Kazuya tightened his grip on his brother's shoulder. Chaolan swallowed at the warning and fell silent.

"That's better," Kazuya murmured. "Take it easy. I'll look after you. I always look after you, don't I?"

Chaolan said nothing.

Kazuya helped him stand and led him out of the dojo and into the house. He stayed close as the house staff wordlessly cleaned and bound Chaolan's injuries and rubbed oils onto his burned forearms. They took a meal sitting opposite one another at the low table in the formal dining room. Chaolan was in one of the old ornate kimonos from one of the spare bedrooms. It hung loose over the bandages that crossed his torso, arms and shoulder. He offered no objection when Kazuya suggested that they both stay the night at the estate.

* * *

**Author Note: **Longer chapter this week because I'm not good with consistent chapter lengths. Thanks for reading and please do leave a message here or elsewhere if you're enjoying the story, it's always exciting hearing from people I'm sharing things with!


	4. Cracks in the Zaibatsu Fortress

Jun propped the fan up so that it had a chance to catch the air from the open window. She wiped her brow and watched as the mirror in her room misted up with heat from the wok on the stove. She returned to the pan and tossed the contents with a wooden spatula, checked her rice cooker and mopped her brow again. She turned off the gas and served herself a bowl of rice and fried vegetables. She sat down on the floor and leaned her back against the wall.

On short notice and almost no budget to speak of, her apartment was one room: narrow enough that she could touch both walls with her arms outstretched, and long enough that she could lay down a sleeping mat and stretch full length with just a little room to spare. A shower and toilet occupied a tiny closet, but other than that, all other facilities were stacked into this tiny space. She kept everything tidy, mostly out of necessity. Everything had to be put away before the space could be transformed to serve its next purpose. Things folded away and slid into slots, and everything had its proper place that made living in the tiny place bearable. As she picked up a pair of chopsticks and began to eat though, her mind wandered as it always did back to the thick, dark, woolly mountains of Yakushima.

She thought of the night alive in summer with the chirrup and buzz of a thousand insects and the heavy humid air that collected under the boughs of ancient trees. The deep smells of mosses and undergrowth, brilliant flowers and fresh gurgling streams come straight out the moist earth. The way the birds called across the island and dived in and out the sea at sunset. The way the moon rose high and the stars came out and speckled the sky like fireflies, and the light on the waves was silver on black with only the faint hush of the shoreline to underpin the cacophony of wildlife.

She sighed and watched the steam rise from her bowl. Her case files had fallen over and were fluttering pages as the fan turned. A thin blanket was folded next to her rolled up sleeping mat. A tea cup she hadn't had time to wash that morning sat on the blanket. The sun had dried it up and left a ring of green detritus in its bottom. She chewed her food and wondered what Mishima Kazuya was doing. She wondered if he'd ever cooked his own food, and if he would sit at a traditional table or if he favoured the larger Western style that were becoming fashionable in Tokyo. She wondered if his whole house was filled with beautiful things like the tray and chopsticks she'd been handed when she visited the Zaibatsu. She wondered if all the space and luxury had ever made him happy.

The phone on the wall rang, interrupting her thoughts. She set down her bowl and pulled the phone off the hook, taking care not to let the wire upset a pile of fresh laundry she'd folded earlier.

"Kazama speaking."

"Well, hey there, queen of celebrity gossip!"

"Lei. What do you want?" Jun tucked the phone between her cheek and shoulder and managed to sit back down and find her food again.

"Only to hear all the latest. I missed you at the precinct and wanted to hear if you got any juicy secrets out of Mishima himself."

Jun sighed,

"Nothing substantial. I managed to fluster him enough that I doubt he'll want to see me again. He agreed to another meeting, but-"

"Seriously? A third meeting? How are you doing this? He for sure must have the hots for you, Kazama."

"Or I might just be good at my job," Jun said irritably. Lei's suggestion had already made her blush furiously though and she could hear her heartbeat so loud that it was difficult to concentrate. "Anyway, didn't you hear me? I followed your terrible advice and only succeeded in making him hate me."

"So he was rattled?" Lei said with interest, "What about? Last month's homicide?"

"There is no evidence that that happened, Lei!"

"Is that what he said? How did he seem? Anxious? Agitated?"

Jun had an unpleasant feeling, like she was betraying trust somehow.

"I don't know." She was cagey. "Wouldn't _you_ be angry if someone accused you of being accessory to murder?"

"So he was angry?"

"I'm not talking about this now." She shovelled rice and pak choi into her mouth and swallowed. "We can discuss this tomorrow. During _office_ hours."

"Ah, come on. I know you were thinking about the case just before I called. You're one of the good ones, Kazama. You're going to die poor like me: we care too much about the work to ever make it big on the career ladder. So, do you think further meetings are off the table or can you turn the charm on one last time?"

"I'll ring tomorrow morning and find out." Jun was still irked by Wulong's tone. When _he_ fixed up interviews he never called it 'turning on the charm'.

"Good. I've got a bunch of background files on Lee Chaolan that we need to look over tomorrow. He looks like our way in for sure. Long standing history of hiding in the shadows of violent, ambitious psychopaths like Mishima Kazuya and their father, Heihachi."

Jun shifted, uncomfortable in the sticky heat, or perhaps with the conversation.

"Can't we just follow the money? Start looking at investments that don't add up, comings and goings that look suspicious?"

"Kazama, Kazama, this isn't some small town company we're talking about here! Try finding anomalies in the accounts of a multi-billion dollar corporation. The airtight record this company has is that they own every thing and every one. Nope, our way it is going to be the people. Finding out who wants to spill the dark inside story of the Mishima Zaibatsu. If there's murder happening inside the walls of that company, it's only a matter of time until someone tries to run, and we need to be the open arms they run into."

"And animal smuggling."

"Huh?"

"We're investigating animal testing and smuggling."

"Yep, yep of course. Also, if you do get another look around the Zaibatsu, keep an eye open for Bruce Irvin again. He's on record as Mishima's head of security, but I know for a fact Irvin's been mixed up in dirty business before. If Mishima's not killing people with his own bare hands, you can bet it's Irvin pulling the trigger."

"Okay…" Jun said uncertainly, "but remember we're meant to be building a case on animal mistreatment, Lei. I'm not actually qualified to work homicide cases… I do know a number of places we can look into and try to follow up on to trace illegal shipment of live cargo: I've worked some similar cases before."

"I'm not sure the Zaibatsu are going to be working quite the same routes your used to, Kazama."

"But we'd look like right fools if they were and we hadn't covered our bases."

She heard Wulong sigh heavily on the other end of the line.

"Fine, whatever. But lets not waste too much time or too many resources on this. I'd like it to be a priority that we try to keep Mishima talking."

"I said I'd call his office in the morning. In the mean time I'll fax _you_ the other leads we need to check out."

"Hey, I'm leading this operation remember, Kazama?"

"And where exactly are you leading it?" she asked coolly, "because so far it looks like I'm doing most of the work here."

"Listen, I'm working my butt off, ok!? Just because we don't all have the looks Mishima's interested in, doesn't mean I'm not pulling my weight!"

Jun felt cold despite the hot evening air.

"Goodnight, Lei." She hung up the phone.

She let the receiver lie limp in her hands. Her stir fry was cooling rapidly in her bowl. Was that all this was? A wealthy businessman had seen something he liked the look of? She could certainly see how it might look that way from Wulong's perspective. She touched her hand to her forehead. The sounds of the whirring fan mixed with the traffic far below on the street and raised neighbours' voices through the thin walls of her apartment. She wished she could be back home, watching as the paper walls glowed with the footsteps her mother took, holding up her oil lamp as she opened up the house to let in the cool night air. Everything was simpler in silence of the mountains.

The next morning she showered, then cleaned the dishes she'd been too tired to do last night whilst her hair dried. She opened the blinds and let the strong sunlight filter through the small window. Fine motes twisted gold in the air. Orange shafts of sun sent the small apartment into bright colours and cast away the night's shadows. She knelt on her tatami mat and closed her eyes, folding her hands into her lap. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. She let the waking sounds of the city become a drone about her; a rhythm of life so different from the countryside, but no less colourful and alive. She let her mind find that peace that rests in nowhere and nothingness, and in simply being. Today, stray thoughts kept trying to snag her attention – needling worries about the day's plans, and about the time that was ticking by as she sat.

After meditating, she ate leftovers from the fridge whilst she pouring over Wulong's notebook set side-by-side with her own. She flipped through case files and tugged open the fridge door again whilst she was reading. She extracted a pot of cooled green tea she'd made yesterday and poured herself a cup. She checked the time and chewed her lip. She looked up at the phone receiver on the wall. She frowned and looked back at her work. Then she looked up at the phone again. She grabbed her notebook and turned it to the page with the Zaibatsu office number scrawled on it. She stood slowly, let out a slow breath.

"Mishima Zaibatsu. You're speaking with Lee Chaolan, how may I help you?"

"Mr Lee?" she started.

"Oh, it's you." He didn't try to keep the irritation from his voice.

"When I last spoke with Mr Mishima, he said that-"

"He isn't taking any more appointments."

Jun's heart fell. She'd been half expecting something like this, but it still hurt to hear.

"Oh… okay." She'd meant to sound more professional that that, but her voice came out small.

"Will that be all?" Chaolan's voice was clipped. There was something in it that stirred warnings in Jun's chest. Usually she had to be in the room with someone to get these empathetic waves, but she was struck hard just then by a pang of indistinct urgency and the awareness that all was not well.

"Is everything alright, Mr Lee?"

There was a pause that was a fraction too long.

"Why wouldn't it be?" There it was again. That edge to his voice.

"Are you alright?" she blurted.

Another silence. This one longer than the last.

"Perfectly excellent, thank-you, Miss Kazama." He wasn't. She could tell from the glossy shine on his words and that self-conscious tone he'd taken. She was relieved to know she wasn't making a complete fool of herself on unfounded grounds at least. "I do, however, have a lot of work to be getting on with. Aren't there some dolphins that need your attention or some other poor creature that needs your valuable time?"

"You don't deserve to be treated this way by him. You're his brother. If we can't even find compassion for our own family, who can we have compassion for?

This time the silence was so long she was sure the phone had been hung up on her. She closed her eyes. A slight wind blew in from her apartment window and tickled a stray strand of her hair, still damp from the shower.

"I can give you an appointment on Wednesday, 4:50 PM. He won't like it and he'll probably be mad at us both, but who the fuck cares."

Lee Chaolan hung up after that. Jun was left staring at the receiver in her hands, not quite believing what she'd just heard.

A confused stew of feelings mulled in her. She could see Kazuya again. But also, things had definitely gotten worse. _He_ had gotten worse. He was losing control, just like Lei Wulong had predicted. She didn't want to pick through the holes in his slipping armour though. She wanted… she didn't know what she wanted. To help, somehow. That was all she'd ever wanted to do really. She'd just wanted to find a way to help sort through some of the screaming silent suffering she felt in all those around her, every day of her life. She just wanted a little more peace in the lives of others. And despite all the things she knew Mishima Kazuya to be, the knowledge that he was desperately in need of a little peace kept returning to her again and again. He was someone who had never had a chance to rest, who did not remember what it was to live in the security of others' trust, who had no recollection of the warmth of life, nor the reach or love. He wasn't just a criminal case, or a wild animal caught in a trap, he was someone who'd never had chance to be transfigured by care. And she'd always had so much care to give.

* * *

Lei Wulong was blocking out most of the light as he sat on the window ledge of the small window in their office. He was eating a beefburger out of a plastic paper whilst reading a stack of notes.

"This cupboard smells of whatever that is you're eating," Jun said, wrinkling her nose as she entered.

"A taste of good old Hong Kong." He lifted the burger. The fan was blowing paper across the floor. Jun collected some of the loose sheets together and placed a stapler on top of them. "Did you get that appointment?"

Jun nodded, a little self-conscious. Wulong gave a faint whistle, impressed. Jun folded her arms.

"What did you want me to look at? You said you had files on Lee Chaolan."

"Mmhmm." Wulong set his burger awkwardly on his lap and extracted some of the papers from his sheaf and handed them to her. She took them a little distastefully, avoiding the greasy fingermarks he'd left on them. She frowned as she rifled through them.

"These are…"

"Newspaper cuttings, collaged together and photocopied by yours truly."

"- _gossip_ columns!" she finished.

"That too."

Jun stared at some of the headlines: _Banking on a good catch: new boyfriend of Lee Chaolan is no stranger to the high life or investment banking; Dazzling actress Nakahara Masami spotted with playboy Mishima heir!; Scandal in the business world? New Zaibatsu investors' son revealed to be dating Mishima brother Lee Chaolan; Inside story: who is Shin Jae-suk? Korean DJ the latest to try and pin down Zaibatsu's playboy. _Jun held the pages a little further from her and winced.

Wulong pointed with his burger at the headlines,

"And those are just from this year."

"This _year_?"

Wulong gave a sly smile and watched her with amusement. Jun became a little flustered.

"Does Mr Lee's private life not sit well with you, Kazama?"

"What he does in his own time is of no concern to me," Jun said quickly, "and I'm not sure why it should be the topic of newspapers and magazines either."

Wulong laughed,

"Ah, sometimes you really do sound like a country bumpkin."

She shot him a cold look and found her eyes returning to the clippings. Some of them were accompanied by photographs – beautiful people who weren't just striking by conventional standards, but had unusual, memorable features that set them apart from just the average model or celebrity personality.

"Certainly got an eye, doesn't he?" Wulong broke into her thoughts, embarrassing her again. "Wonder if the other brother has the same kind of tastes." Jun glared at him and he cracked into a grin, pleased that she'd risen to the bait.

"Why am I looking at these?" Jun cut to the chase.

"Good to know your enemy. And it looks like Mr Lee's personal and public life have a tendency to get tangled together. Perhaps some past lovers can give us a little something to work with, especially since they aren't currently under Lee's influence."

Jun looked aghast.

"You can't just go around interviewing people over their past lovers to try and build a case on a corporation!"

"Watch me," Wulong winked. He jumped off the window sill and tapped the page she was holding. He took another bite of his burger then thought aloud around the mouthful. "Kato Takumi. That's the name of the guy who's father agreed to invest a large sum in the Zaibatsu. That was spring this year. The Mishimas milked the family of cash and then Lee dumped the guy shortly after."

"That could be a coincidence," Jun put in. She hardly new Lee Chaolan, but she felt she ought to at least give him the benefit of the doubt.

"It could," Wulong gave shark-like smile that clearly said he believed otherwise, "but we can find out for certain from the horse's mouth. Or more specifically from Kato junior's mouth. And if he's bitter about the break up, perhaps he won't mind sharing a few other of Mr Lee's unpleasant traits and secrets."

"We're not tabloid journalists, Lei." She handed the pages back to him. "Where are the pages on animal trafficking I faxed you through?"

Lei frowned, taking back his press clippings and shrugging. Jun gave him another irritated glance and strode out the room. She wound her way through the precinct. The room with the fax machine also held two printers and endless stacks of paper because pages had gone unclaimed between the seconds that someone had pressed print and the moment someone else had come looking for their paperwork. The enormous towers of paper were a no-man's-land few dared to venture into. It was easier to press print again and this time run faster to the print room than to try and find anything. Jun began shifting through the stacks, looking for the pages she'd faxed last night.

"Ooh, not a good move, Kazama!"

She looked up. A young uniformed officer was leaning in the doorway, with sunglasses on and cardboard coffee cup in hand. Tanji was the beat cop who'd offered to loan her a squad car a week or so ago. Wulong was furious she still hadn't accepted, but Tanji kept offering Jun things, and Jun had this instinct that saying no was the right move around him.

"Do you know which of these piles is for the fax machine?" she asked him.

"There is no pile for the fax machine. There's just paper and more paper."

"Right…" She pushed her hair behind her ear, trying to sort through a wad more pages. "Some of this stuff is really confidential! Do they know there are people's records just sitting here?"

Tanji sipped his coffee and shrugged,

"Who's going to break in and steal a few thousand unfiled pages from a police print room? It's impossible to sort through, which is why no one ever does. No one except the ever-diligent Kazama Jun." She gave him a tired smile. There were appreciative emotions coming off him, they made the hair on her arms stand up on end. "Want me to give you a hand?"

Help would have been extremely useful, but Jun had to decline.

"I've got this, don't worry." She gave another quick smile, hoping the young man would get the picture and leave. His emotions curled into resentment and colder things.

"You shouldn't be afraid to ask for help, Kazama. People here think you're a bit too proud, you know. I'm only trying to help you out. This is the city, not Wakayama."

"I noticed," she said, still trying to smile. "But really, I'm okay, Tanji. Thank-you for offering."

The young man brightened again and ran a hand back through his hair, ruffling it up.

"Well, I'll leave you to get on with your hunting." Jun's face became a genuine smile of relief at that. "But hey, Kazama, while you have a moment – I actually wanted to ask you if you've tried out this little restaurant, the Matsuhana, just round the corner from here? They get fresh fish in every day for the menu there!"

Jun's face worked through several stages before it settled back into that awkward neutral one.

"I haven't tried it," she said carefully, "but I'm a little busy at the moment. I have this big case to work, and don't have much time to take off right now."

"Animal protection, am I right?" Tanji had a slight grin on his face, as if the topic were amusing.

"That's right." Jun was wary.

"I think you can take a few hours off, Kazama. The animals don't need protecting every hour of every day. How about Wednesday? It'll be my treat. Everyone needs some time off every now and again."

"I actually have an appointment late Wednesday afternoon."

"Work, work, work with you. Clock off early. I know you work so much overtime. And I can put in a good word for you here at the station. You deserve a break. Skip your appointment and come let me take you out. Who can say no to fresh crayfish?"

"It's uh… not a work appointment."

The room went silent. Silent except for the sound of one of the loud printers starting up and trawling paper up into its system. It began the laborious process of running its ink jet back and forth across the page, whirring and groaning as it did.

"You're… already seeing someone Wednesday night?"

The coffee cup crinkled slightly in Tanji's hand. Jun could feel the air stirring around him: genuine dismay flanked by less noble subsidiary things like jealousy and betrayal.

"That's right," she said stiffly. She hated lying, but the absurdity of it being easier to say she had a date than explaining why she couldn't stand up an interview with the CEO of the Mishima Zaibatsu made her feel a little justified.

Tanji nodded slowly for a few moments, then gave a terse smile and left.

Jun leaned back against the printer and exhaled a long breath. She rubbed her eyes then continued her search. When she eventually found the pages she was looking for she returned to the office and handed them wearily to Wulong.

"Cheers. Now you know why I didn't try picking them up." He looked over the documents in silence for a few moments. "Yeah, I recognise some of these companies. They're involved in larger scale international blackmarket shipping too. Not surprised you've had run-ins with them in the past. I'll check some of this stuff out, but even if they are working for the Zaibatsu, I doubt I'll get a squeak out of them. Dockworkers are some of the loyalist you'll ever meet. They'd sooner sink to the bottom of the ocean with all their secrets. I hope you weren't thinking of checking these docks out alone, by the way. There are some really nasty types who won't take kindly to you prying into their business."

"I know," Jun said lightly, "I'm used to doing this sort of thing on my own. I can handle myself though."

"I mean, no offence, Kazama, of course you can, but-"

"Anyway, I'm on Mishima duty, aren't I? So the docks are all yours, no need for you to worry about me."

Wulong nodded.

"Sure. So who's going to hunt down Kato Takumi?"

"Are we sure that's necessary?" Wulong gave her a look. "Fine," she relented, "but it still feels cheap somehow, and wrong."

"Unlike illegal animal experimentation and trafficking."

Jun scowled at him.

"Maybe you could do it." That would get her off the hook. She wasn't sure she could walk up to Lee Chaolan and look him in the eyes once she'd been sneaking off to interrogate his past lovers.

"Or maybe I'll have my hands tied trying to make sure Yakuza aren't cornering me in a back alley full of shipping containers. You have what, one interview scheduled, Kazama? You've given me a list of eight shipping companies here."

So much for that plan then.

"Alright. I'll do it. Can you draw up a list of the sort of thing I'm meant to ask so that I don't feel like some awful journalist trying to pick up a scoop."

"Sure thing. By the end of this you're going to be the Tokyo expert on corporate interrogation. You'll be able to look at someone and all their secrets will spill out," he laughed.

Jun frowned. Too often she felt like that was already the case.

Tracking down Kato Takumi was much easier than she'd hoped. He kept a one person apartment in a wealthy part of town and volunteered twice a week for a children's charity. Whatever money the Mishima Zaibatsu had 'milked' from his family, in Wulong's terms, clearly hadn't been so detrimental as to force Takumi to start making his own means. Jun had telephoned a number attached to Takumi's father's company, and explained that she was with law enforcement and looking to ask a few questions about Lee Chaolan. Takumi had seemed fairly amicable and open to the idea of an informal chat, so long as he didn't have to go anywhere near 'those poorly air-conditioned police stations'. Jun had never intended to invite him to a meeting in the precinct – what would she do, sit him on the concrete floor in the cupboard-office she'd been given?

On Tuesday afternoon she found herself toiling up from the metro station toward a gleaming dark building all made of midnight blue glass. There were mirror black doors that didn't open for her, and no obvious way of requesting a specific apartment. She hung about outside them, feeling very out of her element. Eventually a camera swivelled from its perch on the building corner, and the black doors rolled open for her onto a reception area. A secretary in a crimson suit took her name and rang ahead, before announcing that Jun was permitted to take the elevator up to floor twelve.

The apartment door was opened by a tall, sleek man in a dark suit.

Jun bowed to him,

"Hello, Mr Kato, we spoke on the phone. I am Officer Kazama."

"I will inform Mr Kato that you are here." The man abruptly left, leaving Jun in the doorway with her dismay and confusion. The next man who approached had dyed blond hair and thick fluffy white fur scarf wrapped around his shoulders. He was much shorter in stature and had mellow soft brown eyes. Jun couldn't for the life of her fathom how anyone could wear fur in this heat. As soon as she was invited into the apartment though, she noticed the immediate drop in temperature as the climate control blasted out cool air and lowered the room to a gentle twenty degrees or so.

The apartment was one of those modern ones meant more for showing off in magazines than living in. It was filled with objects that would have been better off pushed more against a wall or into a corner, but had been left free-standing because there was so much spare space that the owner didn't know what to do with it and clearly feared emptiness. Jun tried not to think of her own tiny flat which would have fitted into this living room at least four times over.

"Hello, Officer." Kato Takumi had a youthful innocence to him. He was all soft smiles and gentleness. He had a grace to him as he sunk slowly into a couch that was shaped like something off a sixties retro-future sci-fi television show. He gestured for Jun to sit opposite him. "Sorry if Yasui gave you a fright. He's my butler, he usually welcomes guests for me." Takumi turned to his butler, "can you bring the Akita sake through, Yasui?"

"Not for me, thanks." Jun put in.

"Tea?" She nodded and the butler left. "So, you wanted to talk to me about Chaolan. He's not in trouble, is he?"

This was so much more awkward than Jun had even imagined it would be.

"Not at present. Just doing some checks into his activity in the last few months, and I was hoping you could fill in a few gaps for us."

Takumi settled more comfortably onto the couch and curled bare toes into the fur scarf curling down his back.

"I can't tell you anything after June 14th, because that's when Chaolan broke up with me."

The room filled with ripples of despair and sadness, and Jun glanced up quickly from the notepad she'd just got out of her gilet.

"I… I see," she said. "And… would you say that you had a happy relationship with Mr Lee before that?"

"Very happy," Takumi said eagerly, dispersing the distress with enthusiasm. "We were in love," he added.

Jun made sure to keep her eyebrows from raising and nodded with sympathy.

"And how long were you together?"

"Three months and six days."

Jun looked at him again. Takumi simply returned her gaze with his large doe-like brown eyes.

"Your father was a big investor in the Mishima Zaibatsu, is that right?" Takumi nodded. "And was it a coincidence that at the same time as his largest investments you were seeing Mr Lee?"

"Oh no," Takumi smiled, "I persuaded my father to invest in Chaolan's company. I knew Chaolan cared a great deal about it and I wanted to show that I cared a great deal about him, so I asked my father to become a lead investor."

Jun's eyebrows climbed despite herself.

"You seemed quite dedicated to Mr Lee, given that you were together for a relatively short period."

"I am," Takumi smiled, his expression wandering off into aimless paths of reminiscence. "Even though we're not together any more, I know one day Chaolan will come back for me. We had something special. We weren't like just any normal couple. He understood me, and I understood him. We would have done anything for each other."

"Right…" Jun looked down at her notebook. She hadn't taken any notes. "So… if you don't mind me asking, why did you and Mr Lee split up? It sounds like you had a good relationship with him."

A twist of melancholy shifted in the air about them.

"Chaolan said it was bad for the Zaibatsu image for us to stay together. He said the press had made out like us being together and my father giving the Zaibatsu money was a bad thing. They made it sound like Chaolan asked us for those things. But he didn't! I gave the money because I loved him. Chaolan only told me where to invest it and when."

"Wait, sorry, he what?" Jun blinked.

"Is that a bad thing for him to have done? I don't want to get Chaolan in trouble."

"What exactly did he tell you do invest in?"

Takumi shrugged and looked up with bright eyes as his butler brought in the drinks. He held up his hands for the sake bottle and cup. He popped the cap off and cold air streamed out the bottle. Jun took her tea with a nod of thanks. It was hot, and not at all how Kazuya would have had it made for her. She put that from her mind quickly.

"I don't know really. Mostly I got Chaolan to do it or tell my father what to do, because I don't really understand business. Did you know Chaolan went to university both in Japan and America? He's probably the cleverest person I know."

"Do you remember anything at all about what he asked you to invest in?" Jun's pen tapped her notepad impatiently.

"Research, I suppose. Something about genetics. And robotics. Chaolan always loved to talk about robotics. He was always staying up late reading the latest journals about designing robots! He so wanted his brother to expand the company to do more robotics, but Mr Mishima was always more interested in…, I don't know, shipping weird trinkets around the world. He used to send them off to one of the hundreds of boring Zaibatsu genetics laboratories. If he could have just let Chaolan have _one_ laboratory for a robotics side project-… I go down to the children's hospital on Wednesdays and Fridays and sometimes read to the sick children. I was always asking Chaolan to go there with me some time. They would have loved to hear him talk about the things he was passionate about. Even if Mr Mishima never let him fund the research, the children would have loved to hear about Chaolan's hopes for a future with robots doing all sorts of domestic work. But Chaolan was always the same – Zaibatsu research belongs in the Zaibatsu and nowhere else. He was always so dedicated to Mr Mishima, it made me so sad that Mr Mishima couldn't even give him one thing for himself."

Jun was scribbling furiously.

"You said Mr Mishima had 'trinkets' shipped to genetics labs. What kind of trinkets?"

"Hm, I'm not sure. Chaolan said he was obsessed with looking over all the old projects their father had been interested in. There was a pendant Mr Mishima was after in America – I think that was a project left over from those days. I'm not sure though. I never spent much time around Mr Mishima, he scared me."

"I see. And was there ever any mention of anything else happening in those laboratories? Did Mr Lee ever mention anything about large animals ever being held there?"

Takumi became thoughtful. As he contemplated, a tinkling bell sounded in the apartment. Yasui the butler moved across the room toward the hallway. Jun heard the apartment door click open. Raised voices came through the doorway. Takumi was still contemplating, an airy expression on his fair face. He swivelled gentle eyes toward his butler when he returned. Behind him was a bulky tall man with fierce eyes, a mowhawk, and suit that didn't quite cover up the firearm he carried.

"Bruce!" Takumi exclaimed, and jumped up from his seat. "Is it Chaolan? Did he send for me?"

Bruce Irvin's lips twisted in displeasure. Jun had a sinking feeling that it wouldn't be Chaolan who was keeping an eye on Kato Takumi.

"Mr Kato. Come with me, let's talk in your kitchen." Bruce had a rough voice and his Japanese was heavily accented. Takumi followed him obediently into a vaguely different area, demarcated by wall that ran at an angle then stopped and the floor switching to white tile. Open plan apartments were not very conducive for secret meetings. All the same, Jun wished she could sit a little closer. The silent butler, Yasui, was standing next to her however, as if anticipating that that might be her intention. She could still catch snippets of the conversation. Most of Takumi's words were too soft to hear, but Bruce came through in irate short bursts.

"… _specifically_ told you not to speak with anyone regarding Mr Lee. Including the press _and _the police!"

Some plaintive noises from Takumi and a general aura of sullen recalcitrance.

"… told you that these were not matters to be taken lightly… do not want to piss off Mr Mishima."

That changed the charge of the feelings Jun could feel, and some of Takumi's surliness vanished into distortions of anxiety.

"Of course he's watching! You want him to start taking an interest in your life – he will do if he has to… That's what I thought. So how about you mind your tongue and stop running your mouth."

Moments later Bruce was emerging from the kitchen. He glared at Jun as he passed. Instead of leaving, he came to a stop in the middle of the room and folded his arms, showing off thick muscles through the pull of his blazer.

Takumi returned a beat later, trailing his feet a little. He twitched his fingers together contritely.

"Sorry, Officer. It's probably best for you to go now. It was nice to talk to you. I hope Chaolan isn't in trouble. I wouldn't ever want anything to happen to him."

Jun collected together her things.

"Good to see you again, Mr Irvin," she said to the intimidating figure soaking up any lasting peace there had been in the room. Bruce levelled a cold look at her but said nothing. He drummed his fingers on his crossed arms. Jun could feel his impatience and seething irritation. She pocketed her notebook. "Perhaps I could give you my contact details in case you remember your answer to my last question, Mr Kato?"

"He won't be needing any contact details," Bruce put in.

Takumi gave an apologetic smile, then shuffled deeper into the fluff of his fur scarf, burying his face up to his nose.

Jun gave the room one final look over, then left.

There were lots of things to mull over as she walked down to the metro station. The sky had gone dark and there was distant booming of thunder as a summer storm gathered. She hurried her pace as the first giant spots of rain hit the pavement around her. There were possible leads to follow and investments to look into, and she'd have to let Wulong know he'd been onto something with looking for weak links in the Zaibatsu. Her mind kept returning to one same thought however. She began to run as the skies suddenly opened and the rain came down in sheets. _What would Kazuya think when Bruce Irvin told him about today? _She was doing her job. She wasn't doing anything illegal or even morally suspect. But somehow she couldn't get a picture of Kazuya's disappointment out of her head when he heard that she'd been pressing Chaolan's old flames for Zaibatsu secrets.

* * *

**Author Note: **I had a shared print room in the last uni I worked at full of confidential student work left in random piles. Impossible to ever find anything. Sometimes you'd be printing out work and someone else will have pressed print in between two of your queued jobs and their work starts appearing in the middle and they've decided to print a whole fkn chapter of 90 pages or something. Anyway, this was the chapter where I had to start keeping story notes because I couldn't keep a track of all Lee Chaolan's past lovers. I actually finished planning out the last few unwritten chapters of this story (I get excited and write too much so yes this story is basically already all written). It's going to be 20 chapters in total. Hard to tell the word count as the chapters all in separate docs, but I'd guess around 150k words. That seems to something of a standard for my long stories these days. I love all your comments and support even if its just a small note- my head is nothing but Tekken atm and its nice to hear I'm not alone caught up in all this madness.


	5. Shelter from the Storm

The thunderstorm lasted most of Wednesday too. She'd called in the office and seen Wulong dripping in a plastic anorak and cursing the early hours kept by dock workers. He hadn't had much luck so far and had been forced to come back to the station for a warrant before he went back out again. He seemed at least pleased by the progress Jun had made yesterday, although voiced his disappointment that she hadn't pressed Kato harder and sooner. The Zaibatsu would double down on shutting up loose ends after this and their only opportunity to gather rogue intelligence from this avenue would be closing.

Jun must have checked her appearance half a dozen times in the precinct toilets that afternoon. She wanted to be presentable this time, and the cooler air the thunderstorm was bringing meant she could don a more formal uniform than the shorts and vest jacket that were her most comfortable summer wear. She never normally felt this self-conscious before a meeting. What didn't help matters was that she kept noticing Officer Tanji out the corner of her eye as she went about her day. It was hard to tell if he was following her, or if she kept noticing him because of their awkward conversation yesterday, or if she was just feeling agitated at the idea of meeting Kazuya again later.

As it neared four o'clock, she decided to leave. The office was feeling cramped, and the humidity made the narrow corridors of the precinct claustrophobic. Out on the street everything stunk of car exhaust mixed with damp ozone-charged air, and greasy takeaway food. The metro was crowded with extra commuters looking to avoid further thunderstorms, and Jun found herself pressed up against the bodies of strangers with her arm aching as she held onto a hanging handle above. The carriage was filled with indistinct murmuring and the tinny sound of music escaping headphones. She wondered if Mishima Kazuya had ever taken the metro in his entire life.

The Zaibatsu building reared foreboding and impressive before her, its reflection caught in new puddles on the street. The external lights had been turned on as the sky still lumbered dark above. White strip lights ran down the contours of the building and lit up the Zaibatsu logo emblazoned bold above the enormous entrance. Jun walked up the wide, now familiar, steps. She paused before the automatic doors and checked her watch. Ten minutes early. Good, she was tired of rushing into this building flustered and late. She walked in and let the receptionist know she was here, then took a seat in the lobby. It was cool and a dehumidifier was on. She settled onto the comfortable leather sofas beneath a tropical plant with waxy leaves that leaned out over her. She took out her notepad and felt relaxed for the first time that day. Between the tiny confines of her apartment, the overcrowded transport, and the meagre office space at the precinct she felt like she hadn't had been able to think clearly. She jotted down a few questions she hoped to be able to ask Kazuya and tapped her pen to her chin as she thought.

The space in the reception area was calm. Occasional employees passed through but no one bothered her. Outside the large glass doors the sky was roving dark again and murmuring of distant rains. The Zaibatsu building was located in a wealthy part of the city, mainly occupied by corporations. A couple of high end bars dotted the street opposite, though their lights were off at present. Pedestrians passed only rarely. A police car was pulled up under an ornate looking lamppost, and Jun wondered faintly if it might belong to her own precinct. A twin column of school children passed by, prodding and poking each other and pointing at the Zaibatsu building as their teacher urged them on and tried to get them to avoid puddles. Jun smiled. She recalled a similar memory from her own childhood, having to hold hands in twos so as not to get lost. It had mattered so much then who's hand you held and whether they were popular or someone you liked and whether you could get next to your best friend and hold their hand instead. That hadn't been in Tokyo of course. They'd been going up the old path that crosses the river under the thick mountain forests on the way up to see Ohko Waterfall. She'd delighted in the white water and fine spray and black wet rocks and the shrieks of her fellow students when they slipped in small pools and their school socks got soaked.

She blinked. A policeman was getting out of the squad car on the opposite side of the road. He had ruffled hair, and sunglasses, and had a coffee cup in one hand. He leaned on the bonnet and sipped from his cup, looking over towards the Zabatsu building. Jun drew back sharply so that the plant next to her obscured her from the window. Officer Tanji. He was here. Outside the Zaibatsu. _Perhaps he's on his rounds?_ was her first thought. But then she remembered that this was the time he'd suggested they might go to a restaurant together. Had he forgotten she said no? Was he here in case she changed her mind? Was he trying to catch a glimpse of whoever she'd claimed to be going on a date with? How long had he been standing there? Did he follow her all the way here? How did he know which metro she'd taken? Was he going to stand there for the whole duration of her appointment until she came out? Maybe if she could get Kazuya talking for long enough, Tanji would give up waiting and go home.

"Officer Kazama?" The receptionist called across the lobby. "It's 4:47, you may take the lift up to Mr Lee's office now."

The Kabuki elevator music was still unsettling in her ears. It did nothing for her rattled nerves. She couldn't fathom the choice of music. It belonged on stage to punctuate the dramatic, exaggerated dances of actors, not in a small lift where the sudden dynamic changes and erroneous beats came like bolts of lightening through the anxious thoughts of clientele waiting to meet with the Zaibatsu leadership. Actually, now that she thought of it like that, it wouldn't surprise her a great deal if Chaolan and Kazuya had discussed the exact kind of music they wanted to unnerve people coming to meet them.

When she reached Chaolan's office he was packing things into a briefcase. She was struck by his easy elegance, and the careful way his wardrobe was colour-coordinated, the silken shimmer to his unusual hair, and the keen glint in his eyes. She could see how he might be the sort of person someone might come to obsess over the way that Kato Takumi did. He wasn't the sort of character one forgot in a hurry.

"Ah, Officer Kazama," he gave her a weary smile. "It's not good news I'm afraid." Jun's heart fell. She needn't have put on her nice uniform after all. "I told him about the appointment just a few minutes ago. Suffice to say he was not pleased. You just missed the tirade, which is the only thing I can say I'm glad for. You seem to conduct civil conversations with him more than most, but I wouldn't want to spoil your rose-tinted view by letting you fall prey to that temper."

As he moved about the office, there was a slight stiffness to his gait, as though something pained him.

"Are you alright?" she asked tentatively.

"Me?" He gave a silvery laugh. "Fine. I'm used to him throwing a tantrum. Eighteen years of his bullshit and here I am, charming as ever and keeping his accounts for him."

She could feel him holding things back, but didn't feel she knew him well enough to press further.

"And you're sure he won't meet me even for a few moments?"

"Very sure," he said grimly. Jun couldn't help let the disappointment show on her face. Chaolan came round the other side of his desk and leaned on it, he was closer now and giving her his full attention possibly for the first time. Jun wasn't sure that was an improvement. It was useful being unnoticed and underestimated. There was something about bearing the full inquiring weight of that sharp, intelligent gaze that made her feel very unsure of herself. This was someone who's life was handling people and handling secrets. She was good at dismantling animal traps hidden in forest undergrowth, and breaking open shipping containers with crowbars, and taking down low life thugs who thought that because she was a slight woman a little physical intimidation might deter her. "I'm sorry I couldn't get him to meet with you. You seem like a good person… for a police officer", he added, giving her a cheeky grin.

"I'm not really a police officer." She didn't feel like she was really much of an anything just then. Her mind had slid to the police car waiting outside the Zaibatsu building. Her excuse for not meeting Tanji was vanishing before her eyes, and the idea of even going outside and having to make her case to him was very unsettling. She chewed her lip.

"Well, regardless, I'm sorry I couldn't be of more assistance."

"Can I wait here in your office for a bit?" she asked suddenly, "only it looks like it's about to pour with rain again."

Chaolan checked his watch.

"It's nearly five o'clock and I'm afraid I'm finishing for the day. You're welcome to wait in the lobby though, I'll make sure Mika doesn't chuck you out." He finished sliding paperwork into his briefcase. "Come, take the lift with me, I'll see you to the door."

Jun gave one last reluctant look over at Kazuya's shut door before nodding and following Chaolan back into the elevator.

"I find this music really jarring," she said to him.

"You strike me as someone who might enjoy a bit of traditional folk music, Officer." His eyes twinkled. He definitely intended the music to unsettle people, she decided.

Chaolan swept into the lobby and leaned on the desk as he spoke to the receptionist. He laughed easily and held himself with a confidence Jun could only dream of having. He returned to her and gave her a dazzling smile.

"So sorry to drag you all the way out here for nothing, Officer. I'll mention it to him again when he's in a better mood, but I wouldn't keep your hopes up for another meeting. Please feel free to wait here as long as you wish. I must run, I'm keeping my boyfriend waiting."

Jun blushed at that. She blushed because she'd been talking to Chaolan's ex just yesterday, but luckily he thought it was for other reasons. He gave another laugh at her expression then walked out the wide glass doors. Jun immediately hurried back to her corner with the pot plant. She'd already seen that the squad car was still outside. She chewed her lip and sat on the edge of the leather sofa. The lobby had seemed so peaceful before, but now it was filled with the weight of her agitation.

She pulled out her notebook and stared at its pages. A corner had got damp in the thunderstorm earlier, but luckily most of the ink was untouched. She stared at the words, but couldn't concentrate enough to read them. She leaned forward slightly to check the road. The police car was still there. Tanji was still leaning on the bonnet, flicking through a magazine now. She leaned back. Perhaps she could slip out without him noticing. But the road was quiet at this time of day, and it was a long walk to the metro station down a straight road, if he didn't see her leave, he was sure to see her hurrying down the road soon after. She chewed her lip again. How bad would it be? She could just tell him she wasn't interested in dinner or him. He might be upset, but it was unlikely he'd get physically angry. And even if he did, she knew the family karate style and could handle anything he'd likely throw at her. _Police officers get into altercation outside Zaibatsu building_. That wasn't going to look good in the papers. Especially not with all the footage that would come so nicely off the Zaibatsu cameras. She'd be taken off the case, of course, but it was possible her boss back in Wakayama wouldn't take matters any further than that. They liked her and she was good at her job. It was possible the Tokyo precincts wouldn't want her working there ever again and she was certain they'd see Tanji's side of the story rather than hers, but she'd never particularly liked living in the city anyway. She wouldn't miss her cramped apartment or that hot precinct. It had been fun working with a proper law enforcement agent like Lei Wulong, and she got on with him, and she'd really put her heart into working this case, but there were always more injustices she could throw herself into elsewhere. She'd never get any excuse to try and talk to Mishima Kazuya again, but she'd not been doing well on that front recently anyway, and besides, why would she want to when he was a wealthy corporate businessman who cared only for money and power and ambition.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Jun jumped. Mishima Kazuya was standing a few paces away. He was wearing a black suit but peppered with silver pinstripes that eluded the eyes at first glance, and a violet shirt that he'd opened at the collar. His hair was slicked back and a deep frown was on his face, exacerbated by the scar running running over one cheek and under his left eye. Jun stared at him.

"Well?" His eyes flashed impatiently.

"I…" Her fingers tightened around her notepad. "Mr Lee said I could wait out the storm in the lobby." She couldn't take her eyes off him.

"What storm?"

"Sorry?"

"What storm," he repeated. She glanced out the reception doors. The dark clouds had dissipated, leaving greyer trails behind them and the vague colours of evening starting to diffuse into warmer reds and golds. She leaned forward a little more in her seat to see further. The police car was still there. She leaned back quickly.

"Oh… it must have passed already. I was so caught up in work I didn't notice." She didn't move to get up. Perhaps she should tell him. The idea of confessing such a predicament to Mishima Kazuya made her stomach turn. Absolutely not. Perhaps Tanji was right – she was too proud sometimes.

Kazuya's eyes narrowed and he looked again out the window.

"There's a police car out there. Is it waiting to pick you up?"

"No," she said abruptly. It was said too fast, so she hurried to make that sound less odd. "I always take the train. I'm not expecting anyone to pick me up." She worded it more strangely than she would have normally. Perhaps because she really did want him to know. Perhaps because she was hoping that he might notice on his own. But that was stupid. She was some officer of the law prying into his company's business. Any astute observations on his part previously had been necessary to keep his cover in tact in the face of the law. He didn't need any of that now. He could walk away without trying to read her motivations and concerns.

"Do you need a lift?"

Her mouth opened, and for a moment she thought she might cry. She shut her mouth and composed her expression. His eyes flicked to the squad car then back to her, dark eyebrows knit in a permanent frown.

"Just a block or so, if you wouldn't mind."

She hated having to take him up on the offer, but she'd already regretted not having asked anyone else, and the building was slowly emptying of staff, while the police car showed no signs of moving.

She kept her eyes carefully lowered as she accompanied Kazuya out of the front of the building. He turned left down a ramp into an underground car park and unlocked an unnecessarily flashy sports car. She was silent as she got in. The seats were soft suede but she couldn't relax into them until Kazuya had started up the engine and driven them up out the car park and off down the street. She glanced in the mirror and saw the squad car still parked on the road behind them. Then she saw Kazuya's eyes in the mirror, watching her own.

"Not a friendly acquaintance?" he asked.

"Just a misunderstanding," she gave guardedly. There was no one on earth she would rather not be having this conversation with. He nodded curtly and didn't push the matter.

They sat in silence. The car stopped at a set of traffic lights, then started up again with only a soft purr of the engine and the smooth pull of acceleration. Jun clasped her fingers in her lap and tried not to look as on edge as she felt. She realised she hadn't told him where to go, and had no intention of letting him drop her at her house. The possibility of him seeing even the outside of her tiny shabby apartment stung her.

"You can just drop me off here, there's a station nearby," she said when she recognised a street.

"I can take you somewhere you can walk from, if you prefer."

"No, that's fine. There's a supermarket near here I want to call into for food." That felt like an odd thing to say to him. A series of much worse additions battled through her mind to make the exchange less awkward. She needed to say something. She thought of the case, and she thought of how he'd said no more meetings, and she thought of that sinking prospect of not seeing him ever again. "Unless you want some food."

There was a long pause. Mortification arose in her as she realised the words that had come out her mouth.

"Food… from the supermarket?"

"No, I meant from a restaurant."

Another silence. That had actually happened. She'd asked him out.

He kept his eyes on the road.

"It would be unwise for me to visit a restaurant without first having informed my security."

"Oh! Of course! Sorry, I forgot that it might not be so easy to…-" and then she stopped herself because what if that was just the politest way to say no? "Not a problem at all." She smiled in a way that she hoped didn't look too fake, but her heart was pounding and her cheeks were burning with embarrassment and she was cursing herself internally over and over.

"Perhaps another time then."

"Yes, perhaps a-" She paused again. He pulled the car up when he found a place to park. "A… another time?" She looked up at him cautiously, unsure if she'd heard that right.

"If you like," he said. He seemed very easy and nonchalant about the whole matter. Then that characteristic frown returned to him, and she felt a shift in his mood, as if he just recollected something. "Unless this another interview. I already explained to you that I don't want to speak to the police any further."

"I didn't mean-"

"You police will go to any lengths to get what you want out of a matter. My brother went out of his way to try and speak out on your behalf today, and I didn't have the heart to tell him you'd been trying to get his old boyfriend to talk Zaibatsu business with you."

Jun's face went pale,

"Wait, that's not what I-"

"He had a right go at me. Telling me that speaking with you would be a good thing, trying to convince me that you're perceptive, thoughtful, and that he thinks I'm calmer and in a better place after talking with you. Too bad he can't understand those are all prime manipulative qualities in a police officer."

"Kazuya, wait please-" He turned to her sharply. "I-I apologise. I meant 'Mr Mishima'. I don't know why I said that, I didn't mean to be disrespectful."

"It's not my name I find disrespectful, but your treatment of my brother. Whatever you said to him convinced him to take your side against me, and there aren't many people that can make him do that. Few things anger me more than people toying with his trust."

"I didn't want- It wasn't my idea to-" She looked away. She had to own her own actions. It might have been Wulong's idea, but she still went ahead with it. "I'm sorry. I was thinking of the case work, and not of Mr Lee. I wanted to find answers. I never intended to betray his trust. I didn't even realise I _had_ his trust. And I certainly didn't realise he-" The things Chaolan had said about her were finally sinking in. He'd told Kazuya that speaking with her was good for him. Not as a police officer. As person. As Kazama Jun. Despite the mile long distance she'd felt between her tiny office and the Mishima brothers, she'd somehow squeezed her way into their lives and had thrown away an opportunity she didn't even realise she'd had. The heaviness in her heart and the all-consuming sorrow that came over her was so much worse than anything she'd felt trying to peer out the reception window to see if Tanji had left. She swallowed and looked away quickly.

Kazuya's hands gripped the steering wheel.

"What did Kato Takumi tell you?"

She definitely shouldn't answer that question. Not if she seriously wanted to continue working on this case.

"Not much. That Mr Lee sometimes had a hand in saying where and when Kato's father should invest in Zaibatsu stocks. And that investments were usually in genetics and robotics. He said that Mr Lee liked to talk of robotics but you wouldn't let him invest in it. And something about you shipping strange items to your genetics labs and wanting a pendant from America. Apart from that he was just talking about how much he missed Mr Lee. He was adamant that he would come back for him some day, even though I thought your brother was seeing someone else now…"

"Takumi is lovesick and delusional. Chaolan will never go back to him. Chaolan loves things with a brief, ardent fire and burns what he loves before moving on. The Zaibatsu has a tiny robotics department. That was ill advice on Chaolan's part to tell Kato to invest in it. It lost the Katos a lot of money, but it's always been something of a pet project of my brother's. I've told him countless times there's no market for it. Genetics we do do a lot of work on. It's something I have a personal interest in and I've spent a long time growing our international facilities to expand research in this area."

Jun looked at him warily.

"Why… why are you telling me all this?"

"This is your interview, after which you will leave my brother and I out of your casework and get on doing whatever you must without ringing up our office or setting foot in our grounds without a warrant."

Jun went very still. That was fair. He was being fair. He was drawing a line in the sand. A legal line. A professional line. She only had to walk away. She only had to leave and keep building this case with Wulong. They had leads to follow from Kato's rambling, and Wulong might have something from the docks too. They didn't need interviews with the Zaibatsu leadership. They shouldn't be entering those premises unless invited or with a warrant. _Walk away. Walk away._

She didn't walk away. Looking back, there were a host of things that contributed to the decision, but really chief among them were emotions she felt shifting around Kazuya. Counter to his abrupt manner and cutting words was a fine mist of uncertainty in which lurked hurt and frustration and irritation and betrayal and disappointment and hope.

"I didn't ask for an interview. I asked if you wanted to go to a restaurant with me."

Somehow that sounded braver and calmer than the turmoil of things inside her just then. Kazuya kept looking forward but she could feel the light breaking through that black cloud of emotion that surrounded him. His hands tightened slightly on the wheel.

"If you come to the Zaibatsu reception at 5pm on Friday I can have us driven to a restaurant that meets my security standards."

She looked at him. He kept staring forward. She gave him a radiant smile anyway.

"I'd like that," she said quietly.

* * *

**Author Note: **"If you come to the Zaibatsu reception at 5pm on Friday I can have us driven to a restaurant that meets my security standards." The Kazuya way to ask someone on a date.

Thanks very much for reading and expecially toThalieXVII, Sub-Pion, and Loreadana for the reviews. _Sub-Pion:_ you got me- angry old brother being occaisionally tender is my MO and I'll die on this hill. Between Bi-Han and Kazuya I wrote Hanzo Shimada and Itachi Uchiha (latter isn't up yet), so definitely a recurring theme here. _Thalie XVII:_ Yes, I like the idea that Lee and Kaz might have had a complicated relationship where resentment comes and gos, and some days they're at each others throat and other days they have a more genuine care for each other. I enjoyed the complex dynamic between them in your writing too.


	6. Letting Go of Impermanent Things

Kazuya's head was hurting. He rubbed his eyes, then looked up with an expression of impatience and drew a breath to speak. Chaolan stopped him by mouthing 'five more minutes' and miming the number on his fingers. He tilted his head, fixing Kazuya with one of his manipulative, pleading looks. Kazuya rolled his eyes and looked away, sighing heavily.

A steady pulsing beat was pounding through the apartment with a repetitive loop of heavy bass and distorted guitar layered over the top. The abrupt stop and start of the rhythms was off set by high, half-screamed rap vocals clashing with the squeal of the guitar. A brief respite came in the form of a sung, tuneful chorus before the verse jumped back in again and Kazuya's eye twitched. Three minutes later the track ended.

"What do you think?!" A young man with a mop of dyed flaming red hair and an oversized lemon yellow hoodie flopped down on the sofa next to Chaolan. He pulled off a beanie hat and held it between his hands looking eagerly towards Kazuya.

"I think it's absolutely beautiful, my little satsuma." Chaolan flicked a lock of the young man's hair out of his face. Kazuya gave a grunt of distaste at the display of affection and folded his arms.

"You think _everything_ I do is beautiful, Chaolan!"

"Well, I can't help that, can I. Doesn't mean it's any less true."

"Please confine this simpering talk to when I'm several miles away," Kazuya said irritably.

"Sorry, Mr Mishima," the young man apologised.

"I told you you can call him Kazuya. No formalities when it's just family."

The young man blushed and his eyes went soft when Chaolan called him family. Kazuya rolled his eyes again. No one was _his_ family unless they'd trained twenty years under Mishima Heihachi and lived to tell the tale. The young man turned back to Kazuya.

"So, what do you think? Might the Mishima Zaibatsu be interested in sponsoring our next album? We're not looking for a big endorsement, we would need enough to cover the recording, mastering, and then making the CDs. And maybe a little for the promo. No one's interested in this harder sound in hip-hop at the minute, but it's going to be big. This demo is just the start. If someone would just give us a break, I know we can do it. You wouldn't regret it, Mr… uh… Kazuya."

Kazuya looked at him. Shin Jae-suk was a good five years younger than him, and one of the more eccentric characters Chaolan had attached himself to in many years. There was a keener kind of honesty to him than most of Chaolan's lovers though. He came from humble origins, much like Chaolan himself, and Kazuya could see Chaolan's eagerness to share his own fortunes with others shining bright in all his actions around this peculiar musician.

"What are the lyrics about?" Kazuya asked. He could see Chaolan blowing hair out of his face and folding his arms out of the corner of his eye.

"It's mostly um… cultural stuff. In this song, there's a bit critiquing the government – the Korean government," he added, when he saw Kazuya frown. "Mostly asking for peace though and an end to hostilities with the North."

"Are you aware that the Zaibatsu trades in armaments?" Kazuya saw Chaolan shift uncomfortably.

Jae-suk pondered this for a moment,

"At this stage my band isn't really in a position to be picky with who we ask to help us. We don't mind if you don't."

"What about lyrics in the rest of the album? Any political statements about Japan?"

"Um… there's a bit in one song about minke whales."

"Sorry?"

"Minke whales. There are lots being hunted by Japan for a special research program. So we've got one song saying about how that's bad and endangering them…"

Kazuya glanced at Chaolan.

"Are we involved in that?"

Chaolan fixed him with black eyes. He smiled tersely,

"Not directly."

Kazuya returned to Jae-suk,

"Sure. I'll finance your thing."

"The album?!" Jae-suk's eyes lit up.

"That's what you were asking me do to, wasn't it?"

"Thank you so much, Mr Mishima! This is… this is really exciting! Chaolan, can I borrow the telephone to call my bandmates and let them know?"

Chaolan nodded and Jae-Suk leapt up and hurried out the room. Chaolan turned surly eyes on his brother.

"What? Don't look at me like that. This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Kazuya crossed his legs and leaned back as he spoke.

"Why do you have to- Can't you just try and be nice?"

"I was being nice! I'm just making sure this isn't going to be a terrible mistake for him or the Zaibatsu. Sorry if I don't conform to your preferred method of white-washing all our business ventures in lies."

"Public relations is important, Kaz."

"I mistook him for your boyfriend, not the public. Was that a wrong move on my part?"

"Stop being such a dick." Chaolan huffed and picked up a box of cigarettes from the table. He glanced at Kazuya who nodded. Chaolan pulled two cigarettes out, flicked a lighter over them and handed one to Kazuya. "Talking of being a dick, have you changed your mind on whether you'll see Officer Kazama?"

Kazuya coughed smoke the wrong way into his lungs and thumped his fist against his chest as he cleared his throat. He caught his brother looking at him with a curious expression.

"Something I'm missing?" Chaolan asked.

"No," Kazuya said quickly. Chaolan's eyebrows climbed further. Kazuya cursed internally: Chaolan had always been too good at reading him. Mercifully, Jae-suk returned just then. Kazuya cleared his throat and regained his composure.

"Thanks ever so much!" Jae-suk's eyes were shining with respect and gratitude as he looked at Kazuya. He grinned and he slumped back down next to Chaolan. "This is so cool! I never would have thought one gig in Seoul could have led all the way to here, today. An album! People will go into music stores and there'll be our CD with our music in a proper shop, with a proper lyric booklet and album art and-."

"Seoul?" Kazuya interrupted, frowning at his brother. "Whilst you were at that conference in June? Did you take security?"

Jae-suk looked instantly apologetic, and turned to Chaolan.

"I didn't mean to throw you into something, is that- were you not meant to be-?"

Chaolan huffed and blew his hair again,

"No, I didn't take security, Kaz. I wanted a night on my own."

"You're one of the most recognisable people in the world. Take security next time."

"I'm even more recognisable with bodyguards circling me," Chaolan muttered.

"But Kazuya is right," Jae-suk put in. "If it's dangerous for you to be out without bodyguards, then you shouldn't take the risk!"

Kazuya gave a smirk that only Chaolan could see. Chaolan scowled.

"I can handle myself."

"I know. I saw the Iron Fist Tournament footage," the musician fixed Chaolan with earnest eyes, "but a one-on-one fight is very different. If someone really wanted to hurt you, and especially if you were just trying to have a good time and enjoy the music… I just- I wouldn't ever want anything to happen to you. And it's not worth the risk just for some dumb gig when-

"Ah, Satsuma," Chaolan touched Jae-suk's cheek, "but it _was _worth it. You think we ever would have spoken if I was surrounded by a half dozen Zaibatsu suits?"

"My cue to fuck off." Kazuya stood. Jae-suk looked apologetic, but Chaolan looked conniving. He gave a small wave with one hand.

"See you, Kaz."

* * *

Chaolan spread out and put his feet up on the coffee table as soon as Kazuya was gone.

"I think we made him feel uncomfortable." Jae-suk sounded rueful.

"_I _made him feel uncomfortable," Chaolan clarified. "And don't worry, he deserved it."

"I really wanted to try and get on with him though. I don't want him to hate me."

Chaolan took a moment to try and blow out a smoke ring. It came out as a squiggly line instead.

"He doesn't hate you. You'd know if he hated you."

"He didn't like the demo track, did he." Jae-suk's shoulders hunched and he shuffled deeper into his oversized hoodie.

"Don't take it personally. Kazuya has the cultural appreciation range of a marsupial. An extinct marsupial." That made Jae-suk smile. Chaolan's eyes softened. "I like it when you smile." Jae-suk swivelled on the couch and pushed his toes into the soft cushions. He leaned back against Chaolan and let out a sigh. "I'm serious that I like your music though." Chaolan kissed the top of Jae-suk's head. "And I'm not just saying that because you're cute. There's such a raw power to the sound. So much anger and despair and frustration. I like that. It resonates with me here." Chaolan tapped his chest. He had a far off look in his eyes.

Jae-suk sat up and crossed his legs under him. His eyes were light with a brightness and innocence that made Chaolan's heart twinge.

"Is everything okay? You've been very quiet since you came back from that visit to your family home a few days back."

Chaolan put out the end of his cigarette. He shrugged vaguely.

"Just some old memories coming back to haunt me."

Jae-suk was looking at him with eyes that didn't believe. Chaolan knew he'd seen the odd claw marks across Chaolan's shoulder and middle. Chaolan liked the way Jae-suk gave him space to keep things private he wasn't ready to talk about.

"Well, I'm here for you if you want anything. You don't have to do so much on your own if you don't want to."

Chaolan gave him a smile, but it was mostly painted. He'd always been alone. He'd survived because he was good at being alone. And people like Jae-suk were a welcome relief from an eternity of loneliness, but it wouldn't be so long until they both went their separate ways and the less other people took of himself away with them, the happier they would be as they got on with their own lives. That and there was less of a likelihood that they could damage the Zaibatsu.

Chaolan covered his isolation and melancholy with a kiss to Jae-suk's cheek.

"Thank you," he murmured into Jae-suk's hair. He nudge his way to his lover's lips and pressed his own to them. It never failed to deflect conversations away from places where he was vulnerable. There was still concern for him in Jae-suk's eyes. Chaolan pushed his tongue into his mouth and those eyes fluttered closed, giving themselves over to intimacy. The kiss deepened and Chaolan lowered his lover back onto the couch, running his hands through his hair, touching his face, as though checking that there was a real person there with him, still grounding him. He nudged up the hoodie and shirt to skate his hand over his lover's bare stomach. He felt that tell-tale sigh that meant the conversation was dropped and forgotten as breath exhaled from the chest underneath him. He broke the kiss to pepper smaller ones onto Jae-suk's lips and jaw and up to his ear. Jae-suk laughed at the tickle of soft pressure on his ear lobe. His eyes had gone half-lidded and affectionate. Chaolan looked at him and momentarily lost himself in the beauty of that picture and dared himself to believe in a more permanent kind of happiness that he might find in this man. Then his mobile phone rang.

Chaolan sat up.

"Do you have to get it?" Jae-suk asked, voice drowsy with desire.

"Could be work. I have the office line forwarded to it after hours."

"Doesn't 'after hours' kind of mean work should be over?"

"Not when you're as perfect as me," Chaolan leaned over and kissed him again, then jumped up and took the mobile phone receiver in hand. "Lee Chaolan, Mishima Zaibatsu." He paced before floor-to-ceiling glass windows that looked out on a glorious dying sunset. Blazing light was bouncing off glass highrises and old storm clouds were submerged in smoky shades of later gold.

"It's… it's Kazama Jun." The voice on the other end of the line was timid, and not at all what he'd come to expect from the officer.

"Officer? Is everything alright?"

"Yes," she said abruptly. She didn't sound alright at all. "It's um… there's a… um personal matter I wondered if I could ask you about."

Chaolan's eyebrows raised. He turned and nodded to Jae-suk, letting him know the call wasn't anything too serious.

"Anything you wish, Officer Kazama. Please go ahead." He heard her draw in a large breath. Perhaps he'd prematurely thought of this as not too serious. She was clearly psyching herself up a lot.

"If I…, theoretically speaking, were to be meeting Mr Mishima at a venue of his choice for an evening meal, what kind of place would it be? Is there something I'm meant to be wearing? I heard some places don't let you in if you're wearing the wrong thing, and I-"

"He asked you on a _date_?" Chaolan didn't mean that to come out as incredulous as it sounded.

"Well, not exactly, you see… I-… Listen can you help me or not?"

Chaolan's face cracked into an enormous grin.

"Sure I can. I know the exact place he'll go. And yes, there'll be a dress code, but anything vaguely smart will do. You're not going to be chucked out of anywhere with Kazuya next to you."

There was a squeak from behind him as Jae-suk sat bold upright on the couch. '_Kazuya?'_ he mouthed, then made a heart-shape with his hands and pulled a questioning look. Chaolan gave him a mischievous smile then nodded and put his finger to his lips.

"What do you mean vaguely smart?" Jun sounded irritable. "Vaguely smart in your book is probably ten-thousand pound suits and-"

"My dear, my dear, you're panicking. Don't panic. Just be yourself. What would you wear for a celebration day back in Yakushima? It's not about the cost, simply about showing a respectful effort."

"It _is _about the cost in some places," Jae-suk said, folding his arms and slumping back in the sofa. Chaolan shushed him again.

"I'd wear something simple but that honoured my family name," Jun said slowly. "Like I did at my father's cremation."

"Yes, exactly, well-… sort of. Dammit, I see why you get on with Kazuya. You don't need to dress for a funeral, Kazama. Just…" He put his hand to his head, "do you want me to help you find something to wear?"

"No!" That came out with the kind of conviction he was more accustomed to. "I'll manage." Her tone settled down a little. "Thank you, though. This was useful. Please don't mention to him that I-"

"Wouldn't dream of it." He smiled again. He walked a little closer to the windows and lowered his voice, smile vanishing. "Be careful."

"He said his security would be there."

"Of him."

There was silence. Chaolan hoped he hadn't said too much. She was still police after all. It mattered more to him just then though that he made sure she knew what she was getting into.

"I know," she said and something in her tone of voice reassured Chaolan that she really did. He was still concerned though.

"He can be… unpredictable. Volatile." He chewed on his thoughts for a moment, unsure how much to say. "…Violent."

Another silence.

"I thought as much," Jun said. She didn't sound as put out or upset as he thought she might. He'd been underestimating her at every turn up until now though, so perhaps that shouldn't have been so much of a surprise. "Thank you for telling me. I will be careful. I know how to look after myself." Her voice became gentler, "You be careful too, Mr Lee."

His throat tightened. His lips tried to do an automatic smile to laugh the matter off, before he remembered she wouldn't see it, so it didn't matter. His face remained grim and his lips a thin, straight line.

"I'm always careful. All the best for your date."

As he set the receiver back down the light was fading into duller mauves and deeper blues. The sky was clearing, and if it weren't for all the light pollution he supposed he might see some stars. He'd seen stars for the first time when he was adopted into the Mishima family and moved to their enormous country estate. He didn't miss the stars now.

"Come sit back down with me." Jae-suk patted the couch next to him. Chaolan wound his back to him and collapsed into the couch, flopping his head back into his lover's lap. Jae-suk brushed stray hairs from his face and stroked his hair. "There's always lots going on inside your head, isn't there," he said quietly.

Chaolan didn't reply. He just closed his eyes and concentrated on the soft repetitive motion of the hand in his hair.

* * *

It was cool for the first time in weeks as Jun walked into work. A breeze was on her face and the air felt cleaner after the storms of the last two days. She was going over in her head what she should say to Wulong. She'd decided to lay the matter out clearly to him and ask his advice on just how much of a conflict of interests her current situation would present. She was trying to imagine his expression as she skirted a puddle on the pavement. He might be frustrated that she'd thrown her position in the case, or smug and insufferable because he'd been casting insinuations about Mishima Kazuya for some time now. But perhaps he'd always meant those as a joke, because he didn't believe she could really wish to spend time with someone who had so many monstrous accusations to their name. Mishima Kazuya stood for everything she worked against. All her life she'd tried to listen to those with no voices, tried to do what was right by those who suffered and had no means to means to vouch for themselves. Even to be seen with Kazuya would turn her reputation on its head and destroy what little progress she'd made in presenting herself as someone level-headed and reliable and dedicated to a cause. People like him were the problem. There were millions upon millions of people in the world who weren't Mishima Kazuya. All of them would have been much less damaging candidates to go out for dinner with. Even his own brother had warned her against him.

She paused on the street and closed her eyes. There were things more important than jobs and reputation. More important than looking like she was doing the right thing, was _actually _doing the right thing. As long as she was true to what she believed to be good, that was all that mattered. In some absurd, confusing way, Kazuya felt like someone without a voice. He felt like someone who needed to be given a chance to speak. Not the Kazuya who got up and gave speeches on the television and radio though, and not the Kazuya with his calm pre-prepared words and cold smirk, and not the Kazuya who was that dense cloud of dread and violence and hate and doom. The Kazuya in the back, who only existed in fractional almost-lost seconds of fleeting glances and hesitations. She wanted to listen to that Kazuya.

She sighed and continued on up to the precinct. She pushed open the door and ran her hand back through her hair. It felt good not to be hot and sticky as she came into work for once. The precinct was unusually quiet. She looked up. The secretary at reception had taken her ear phones out and the music came tinny through her unplugged headphones. She stared at Jun. Some people in the precinct were seated or hovering near a desk, and a few faces even peered through glass screens from around the half unfurled blinds. They were all looking at her. Jun put her hand self consciously to her face to check there wasn't something on it. She even glanced down at her clothes to check she wasn't wearing something outrageous. Then she saw Tanji.

He was standing near someone's desk, surveying her over the rim of an ever present coffee cup. He sipped from his cup in a way that somehow came over as intimidating.

Jun's heart was sinking. He'd almost definitely seen her leaving the Zaibatsu building with Kazuya. And hadn't she told him she'd be meeting someone in a personal capacity that evening? Did that mean that he'd told everyone that she…

She swallowed. They would think she was doing this behind their backs. They would think this was some on going thing she was doing whilst the precinct worked to bring the Mishimas down. Her cheeks coloured and she glanced down. She hurried between the desks and toward the door at the back. Someone was standing in her way. They didn't move for her. She had to turn sideways to push past them and escape into the back corridor. This wasn't much better. There were people who had all paused to look at her here too.

She blinked repeatedly and drew her shoulders back. She strode to her little cupboard office, and just then she'd never been more happy to set foot inside it. She pulled the fan extension lead in with her so that she could shut the door firmly behind her. She leaned back against the wall whilst her chest rose and fell quickly.

"Okay, Kazama get over here, you're going to love this." Wulong was standing in the middle of the room. A fan of papers was spread around his feet and another stack was in his hand. "Those shipping companies you had me check out. No live animals for the Zaibatsu. _But_, one of them did run a mysterious cargo for them. There was a customs check as they came into Yokohama seven months ago, and the cargo is listed as _rocks_ from central Siberia to be delivered to the Zaibatsu Genetic Research Laboratories. _Rocks_. For a _genetics _lab. Now, one of the smuggling rings I had the Zaibatsu linked to in Hong Kong concerned the smuggling of various artefacts with mystical legends attached to them. Most of the things were worth a fair bit, but I could never piece together how that related to fossils from central Russia stolen at the same time which were also rumoured to have Mishima's metaphorical fingerprints all over them. These thefts were linked somehow but how and _why_? Now, Takumi yesterday said that Mishima is _big_ on genetics, and I'm thinking," he held up one of the papers with a photocopy of Jun's notes on it, "that those 'weird trinkets' Mishima is bringing in from all over might just fit with my missing artefacts that came through Hong Kong on the Blackmarket. But what the hell are they doing going to _genetics_ labs, Kazama? Trinkets, artefacts, fossils. No live matter in any of that. Not at all an obvious choice to send to a genetics lab. So what's he doing tests on and where do arcane artefacts and fossils fit in? Here's my batshit theory, I know you're going to have yourself a right laugh about this one. Mishima is one of those people who's so wealthy he can afford to put time and resources into absolute crazy on the off chance it pays off." Jun sniffed and wiped a hand across her eyes. "You okay?" Wulong asked.

"Yep, uh. Just fine."

"Okay, so you know how at the height of the Cold War the US and the Russians were into all this weird shit – researching into parapsychology and trying to train psychics and supersoldiers, okay, it doesn't matter if you don't know about that, but my theory is, Mishima is one short of crazy and has more money than he knows what to do with. He's pulling all these artefacts from across the world together in order to do research into their so-called magical properties. I think the Nazis were into this too, I'm digressing here. But – yep, that's the current theory. Magic research. For genetic enhancement. Magic supersoldiers. Oh, and, if he's not already on human test subjects he just might be involving your long lost animal friends. So yep, could be a lead even on the animal smuggling. No proof, but it's a theory. It's something."

Jun had pulled herself together enough to give him a very condescending look.

"Magic supersoldiers."

"Yep."

"And where do the fossils fit in?"

"Jurassic Park."

"Sorry?"

"That American movie. Came out about three years back. Jurassic Park. Dinosaurs."

If she didn't know him better, she'd say he was mocking her right now.

"Your most plausible theory for what the Mishima Zaibatsu want with fossils is that they're trying to bring dinosaurs back to life."

"So you _did_ see the movie!" Wulong gave her an enormous grin, "and yes. That's exactly my theory. You've got to think crazy to understand crazy."

"Lei, I-"

"Just think about it for a moment. The Zaibatsu has always been tied to the Mishima family. They're an old family all obsessed with codes and honour. They've got their own secret karate style. Their idea of determining the next heir to their business empire is to throw an international fighting tournament and broadcast it to the entire world. I am _not_ stretching here. These people are _weird. _I realise there a lot more work to be done here, and I'm not actually expecting you to agree with me, but just entertain the idea."

"I can't work the case with you."

That stopped him dead in his tracks. His brow twitched in confusion. She could feel the dismay in the air about him.

"W… what's that now?"

She'd never heard him at a loss for words before.

"I can't work the case. I'm going to have to request to be taken off."

He passed his tongue over his bottom lip, trying to draw his head away from the casework to understand what was being said here.

"I don't follow. Why would you have t-"

"Officer Tanji saw me leaving the Zaibatsu building with Mishima Kazuya last night. People are talking. Well-" She ran her hand down her face, "I assume they're talking, they were just staring and not much else when I came in. But, it's bad. It looks very unprofessional."

"What?! It's not _unprofessional _to leave a building with the perp you're meant to be interviewing, Kazama!"

"Yes, but there was a misunderstanding between Tanji and I earlier in the week and now he thinks that-"

"Fuck what he thinks," Wulong said heatedly. "All that matters is facts. You're not _dating_ Mishima Kazuya and your word should be good enough for everyone else!" She fixed him with a look that was grim and melancholy. He hesitated and some of the fire went out of his words: "you're… you're not, right?"

Jun slumped down the door until she was sitting on the floor.

"Not yet…" she said.

Wulong rubbed his chin. Then he chewed his lip. Then he scratched his hair. Then he tossed down the papers he was holding and put his hands on his hips.

"Ah. Fuck."

Jun looked up at him. She felt foolish, like some naughty teenager again, sneaking off after dark to wander the wilderness alone with no compass and no torch.

Wulong sat down opposite her and leaned against the wall.

"Is it serious?" he asked her.

"I haven't even gone on the date yet!" she folded her arms and looked firmly away. Now she definitely felt childish.

Wulong rubbed his chin again. They sat in silence for some time. The photocopier next door started up with a cacophony of noise and began scanning things laboriously.

"Alright, Kazama. Well, it's got to be up to you what to do. If you decide not to go on the date, I'll pretend I never knew you entertained the idea and I'll bring all of Interpol down on your side to clear your name from this Tanji's accusations. If you go on the date. Well, I think you know we'll have to get you taken off the case. It'll be hard to make it look like a resignation in good faith with all the shit this Tanji is stirring, but it'll be best for you and best for the case what with the conflict of interest."

She looked at him. She'd never really appreciated before what a good friend he'd become in the short time they'd been working together.

"I want to go on the date."

Wulong fixed her with a look that was all earnesty and seriousness.

"Are you sure? Is he worth it? You're damn good at your job, Kazama. And I don't want to see you go down just because-… Are you sure? _Him_?"

She gave a sad smile. Up until now it had all been stumbling from one confused set of emotions to another when it came to Kazuya. She'd never really given herself the time to pause and think. To pause and acknowledge this small thing to herself. She liked him. And not just the him she believed he could be. The way he spoke to her with respect, noticed small things like her comforts and concerns. He treated her with a levelness and an evenness that she didn't often encounter. She wanted to talk to him and not in her capacity as a police officer. It was as simple as that really.

Wulong looked so unhappy on her behalf.

"You know people will talk. They'll think it's the money, the-"

"It's not the money."

"I know that, Kazama. But other people won't understand that. They don't know you, they'll think-"

"It's okay, Lei. It is not such a strange feeling to be misunderstood by people. We're all misunderstood by each other all the time. All we can try and do is learn how to communicate better, and let things go if that doesn't work." Wulong closed his eyes. She gave another small, sad smile. "I know you think I'm giving up on the case for a silly reason, but I'm not giving up on the case at all, Lei. I'm not interested in prosecuting people and bringing them to justice. I know that's a strange thing to say for someone in law enforcement, but all I've ever wanted is to make things better. I want there to be less pain and less hurt and less miscommunication. And I think the best way to stop Mr Mishima hurting people isn't through law enforcement channels. I think maybe I can help him, and maybe by doing so help the animals harmed by his company, and the environment polluted by his factories, and the people close to him hurt by his hurt."

"Kazama,… He-… You-… You can't just fix people. People aren't animal traps that can just be unsprung. You pull the jaws apart and you're just resetting them to snap shut and ensnare something else."

"It's not about fixing things. It's about doing what we think we have to do to make the world a little bit more bearable. I'm not looking to fix anything. I just want to give him a chance."

"He's one of the richest men in the world. People like him don't need any more _chances_ in life, Kazama."

"Everyone needs more chances."

Wulong rubbed his forehead and expelled a heavy sigh.

"I liked working with you."

"And I with you." Jun stood. She pulled her notebook out of her uniform. "Here are my notes. I wish you all the best, Lei." He took the worn little book from her hands with a weariness. His usual smile was gone, and Jun could feel a grim despair hovering about him.

She left him sitting on the floor of their store-cupboard-office, and walked out to face the hostile expressions of her colleagues.

* * *

**Author Note: **Writing Jun Kazama is a very cathartic experience. I have a playlist of 90s Korean hip-hop that I've put on this chapter on Archive of Our Own and on my twitter (erenaeoth) if you're interested in listening. Thanks again for your reviews. Thanks especially to Tifanny91: I'm glad Kaz is coming over as vulnerable and still likeable in parts of these early chapters, in between all the violence and intimidation. Tune in next monday for date night ;)


	7. Candles, Fine Dining, and Eco-terrorism

The Zaibatsu interior seemed fake and insubstantial next to her, filled with facades and shows of wealth that held no meaning. She was dressed in a pale white slip-on dress that came to just above her knees. She wore a white headband to match and white shoes. There was no other adornment, and no other decoration. She reminded him of the serenity and peace his mother had had as she'd been laid out in a pure white gown once last time.

Jun's face flickered to concern as she looked about the lobby. She wrapped her bare arms around herself.

Kazuya stepped into her line of sight and a smile of relief washed away her prior concern. Kazuya couldn't remember if anyone had ever looked relieved to see him before. Usually when he made his presence known, eyes dropped and people bowed or hurried to keep out of his way. It was still a source of utter confusion to him that he hadn't driven this woman away the way he had with everyone else. She hurried over to him, eyes searching in his as she did, checking for something, though he couldn't be sure what.

"Does this arrangement still suit you? I'd understand if not." She looked deadly serious as she said that. Kazuya could see anxious fractals growing in her expression in the moment before he responded.

"Yes. Let's go."

He led them out and them down into the underground parking lot, like he had on Wednesday when he'd noticed that police car loitering outside the Zaibatsu building. He was still intrigued by that entire matter, but had no intention of prying into things she didn't want to discuss. The fact that she was here at all was so miraculous that he was wary of anything that might shatter the spell.

Kazuya had ordered a small security team to accompany them. He was loathe to allow such intimacies to be seen by others, but his people were loyal to him, and better to have them on hand to keep away prying public eyes than risk having to handle a situation that arose himself. He didn't want Kazama Jun finding out his penchant for punching tabloid journalists and threatening establishments with law suits larger than their entire net worth. He and Jun got into a car with darkened windows driven by a trusted bodyguard, whilst the rest of the security team drove in a black vehicle behind them. Jun looked apprehensive about the arrangement, but that couldn't be helped. He thought about trying to set her at ease, but wasn't sure what to say.

"Where are we going?" she asked when they've driven for a short while.

He blinked and looked up. He'd been thinking about old Zaibatsu records he'd been looking over again. His father had used some heavy-handed methods in an effort to secure an old pendant – something that had immediately ensnared Kazuya's attention. Something of value enough to warrant his father sending a hitsquad would certainly be worth his time looking into. He would need to redouble his efforts to locate the item in question.

"A restaurant. It's on the other side of town, but worth the journey." He could see her fingers twisting nervous in her lap. "… Unless you have somewhere in mind you'd rather go?"

"No, no," Jun said quickly. "I hardly know anywhere in Tokyo, and anywhere I did know wouldn't be…" she trailed off and glanced out the window. There was a slight redness to her cheeks.

"Wouldn't be what?"

She looked back at him, uncertainty in that gaze.

"…Up to your standards," she finished in a small voice.

That was probably true, but Kazuya had the class not to say as much.

The cars pulled up fifteen minutes later. Young ornamental trees lined a flagstone courtyard just off the road. A glass canopy above offered a walk from the vehicle to indoors without the touch of exterior weather. The building before them was shadowy glass lit with tastefully muted lights. Kazuya liked the restaurant for its privacy as much as for its high end catering.

"Shall we?" He indicated to Jun, who was craning her neck back to look up at the highrise before them. She gave him a quick, nervous smile and fell into step with him. Despite her obvious agitation, she moved with a steady confidence, holding herself with a practised awareness that he that he tended to see more in the dojo than in the office.

They took a spacious lift up to the restaurant, though it was significantly less spacious with Bruce Irvin and his lackeys occupying it with them.

"Just take the doorways," he said to Bruce, "I don't want you hanging about my shoulder all evening."

"That was the plan anyway, Boss."

Kazuya kept looking anywhere but at Jun. He knew he should be doing more to reassure her – this was his world after all and his people, but he had a numbing sense of discomfort now that there was just the two of them, without the apparatus of a business or work about them. There was also that other faint concern pressing on his mind: he believed her when she said this wasn't work related, but just how much of this would she be taking back with her when she resumed her work with that irritating interpol agent.

The restaurant was all on one floor, furnished in understated colours of ash grey, ebony, and russet. Four tables occupied the room, three of which had been moved to one side, so that just a single table with two chairs at it occupied the centre of the room. The chef's kitchen took up the rest of the room, set with glass countertops so that guests might see their food as it was cooked only a few paces away from them. Dim lights nested deep into the ceiling exuded an ambient glow, but otherwise light came from the soft neon of the cityscape beyond long glass windows.

Jun paused in her tracks. Kazuya saw her bite her lip.

"It's fine," he said in the gentlest voice he could. "The food is excellent here, and there won't be any nonsense from press or the public."

She looked up at him and he could see anxious things in her dark eyes beneath her long lashes. It was different to when people were afraid of him though. She seemed to be drawing strength from him, rather than him being the source of her concern. She gave a small nod, and he noted the way she kept her eyes on him all the way as they were shown to the table.

A waiter dressed in a black suit with a Chinese collar approach the table.

"The usual, Mr Mishima?"

"No. Two iced green teas. Bring the menu. No meat or dairy."

Once the waiter had left, Jun turned to him.

"Please don't feel constrained to eat as I do, Mr Mishima."

"Kazuya." She looked at him. "Call me Kazuya."

Jun seemed calmer after that. She received the menu from the waiter and thanked him as he lit the little candle on their table. Kazuya had never seen anyone thank a waiter before. He watched with fascinated curiosity as her gaze kept wandering off to inspect some part of the restaurant. She seemed perpetually appreciative of things that seemed obvious or commonplace to him.

"I suppose this is very different from Yakushima."

She gave a small smile.

"Yes. Very different."

A sudden thought crossed him – that perhaps it was so different, that she did not like places like this. It was almost inconceivable to him that someone could fail to be impressed by the high end tastes he'd carefully cultivated, but what if Kazama Jun had such a different worldview and such a different background that she in fact did not like the restaurant at all.

"Do you mind?" He asked warily.

"Mind? No, no not at all! I'm honoured to be able to even try the food in a place like this." She kept looking all around herself, "But Kazuya, do you think they really only have just these four tables? What if more people want to eat here?"

He'd been thinking about hearing her say his name again since she first let it slip on Wednesday. He felt something warm bloom in his chest on hearing it a second time, then internally cursed himself for letting something so small do things to his insides. He couldn't help but give a wry smile at her question though.

"It's a reservation only restaurant. With eight chairs maximum. Larger bookings are not accepted."

"Only six more people are allowed in the restaurant?!"

Another smile played on his lips.

"No more are allowed in the restaurant at present. I made a private booking."

Her mouth formed a small 'o' and she fiddled with the menu in her hand until the waiter came and took their order. She watched as the waiter relayed the order to the chefs only a few yards from them.

"It's a really clever idea having the cooking area as glass," she exclaimed. "I'm always wondering how the dishes in restaurants are cooked and wish I could watch them so that I can try and get it right at home."

A small chuckle escaped him and she frowned at him.

"The glass isn't traditionally there for you to spy on the chef."

"Well, why then?" She pulled a face at him.

"For purely aesthetic purposes."

"And you've never tried to copy what they do? Just to get a dish that bit more perfect?"

"I don't cook my own food," he said with eyebrows raised in amusement even at the suggestion.

"What, _never_?"

He couldn't remember the last time someone spoke so brazenly to him. Chaolan maybe. Five years ago or so.

He shook his head.

"Well, that's criminal." She rested her elbows on the table. "What if you got stuck in the middle of nowhere? Or… or what if you were the only one in the house!? Or what if you just wanted to relax and make your favourite thing to eat?"

"Criminal of me? Are you going to arrest me for never having cooked a meal, Officer Kazama?"

He saw a slight shadow pass over her face. The chef arrived with chilled tea and lightly battered tempura arranged in a long wooden dish with tiny orange petals. Jun's eyes lit up.

"How beautiful!" She immediately picked up a petal and ate it. Kazuya stared at her. "Chrysanthemum petals," she pointed at them, "they're edible. Taste amazing too."

Kazuya picked one up gingerly. It was flaming orange and delicate between his calloused brown fingers. He frowned at it, but noticed Jun watching him eagerly. He chewed it and was surprised by its tangy, peppery fragrance. He tilted his head in acknowledgement and she beamed.

"Great in a salad too," she added.

"I'll bear that in mind for when I don't make one."

She laughed out loud at that. It was a good sound. Kazuya decided he liked it. He helped himself to the vegetable tempura and sipped at his tea.

"Tell me what you get up to when not working in Tokyo. Aside from eating flowers."

She laughed again and it was so infectious that he let slip another slight smile.

"I normally work in the Wakayama prefecture. You could fit nearly ten of Yakushima island in Wakayama. I love the mountains and wilderness and forests there. I tend to deal with poachers mostly, but sometimes I get called in to deal with animal smuggling in Osaka."

Kazuya didn't want to tread too far into the topic of animal smuggling.

"Someone yesterday was telling me that many whales are hunted in our waters. You ever deal with that?"

Her face brightened under his interest and attention.

"Once." The way she said it caught his interest. He tilted his head. "Two years ago the government launched JARPN, a research whaling program. In the same year the International Convention for the Regulation of Whaling tried to create a whale sanctuary in the Southern Ocean which our government opposed and continues to violate today. The ICW has also consistently asked our government to demonstrate that the research undertaken is of vital importance and has asked for the use of non-lethal techniques. But non-lethal techniques don't make a whole lot of money. So you can imagine the response."

Kazuya could. He'd never personally been involved in this dispute, but he knew exactly where the Zaibatsu would be if they were. Jun had eaten most of the tempura whilst he was caught up watching her dynamic account of whaling laws.

"So, you said you were involved once?"

"Yes." She put another tempura in her mouth, chewed and swallowed, "I was in the Osaka docks when a whaling vessel came in to refuel. I tried to persuade the dock not to give them fuel, but to no avail. I tried to impound the vessel and didn't get anywhere with that either. Eventually the trawler refuelled and went back out to sea. I asked the locals if they'd take me out after it, but no one wanted the trouble. A few days later though, I got wind that _Rainbow Warrior_ had just entered Japanese waters and was coming up past Kyushu. Do you know the boat?"

Kazuya pulled a face of vague recollection.

"The hippie boat that French secret agents sunk?"

"Yep, that's it. The Greenpeace ship. It was sunk in '85, but they've got a new boat with the same name. Anyway, I took a motorboat out on my own and met up with them and we tracked down the whaling fleet." She reached for the last tempura, "oh sorry, I think I've been eating a lot of these, do you want-" He interrupted her with a gesture for her to continue. She gave a sheepish smile and ate the last one. "And that was that really. We tracked them through heavy sea mist, and found them about six hundred kilometres east of Taiwan, headed back down to the Southern Ocean."

Kazuya rested his chin on a hand, caught up in the story but also just watching the excitement in her expressions. He moved his hand off the table as the starters were cleared away and main meals brought out. Dozens of small dishes were laid out before them, each one with a sprig of some herb or a twist of curling cress. He indicated with a finger that more tea should be brought. Jun thanked the waiter again and paused to draw in the steaming smell of the freshly made food.

"Oh! I forgot to watch how it was being cooked!" She looked forlornly towards the open kitchen.

"I suppose you'll have to come back another time to watch." She blushed at that and busied herself picking up a pair of chopsticks. "So what happened next?" Jun was peering at each of the tiny bowls, admiring their presentation, pausing to stare extra long at thick soup with perfectly concentric circles of layered colour its surface, topped by a tiny tip of basil.

"Next?"

"Once you found the whaling fleet."

"Oh. I harpooned one of the vessels. Punctured part of the stern. We had to turn around though because the Nisshin Maru set a collision course and she had about seven and a half thousand tonnage on us." She picked daintily at little bowl filled with cubes of tofu.

Kazuya stared at her.

"You _harpooned_ _a whaling ship_?"

"Mmhmm," she nodded. "One of the others was going to do it, but it turns out they all had very little experience firing anything. In Wakayama they always make me go out with a hunting rifle because we have a large bear population. I hate the thing and never use it, but I had to do all this training to carry it, so… I ended up being the most qualified to shoot the harpoon launcher they had on board. It was pretty exciting, apart from the bit where I thought we were all going to drown. But… yeah." She looked suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry for talking so much. I never normally… I'm not normally the talkative type."

"Not at all. You seem to be no end of surprises."

She gave a small smile.

"What about you? Do you…" she trailed off. He knew why. Her asking him questions felt like all the rest of their interactions. It felt like police work. She swallowed. "Do you… still practice martial arts?" He blinked, then nodded. "I saw some of your televised fights during the King of the Iron Fist Tournament. Is that a family style you use? I noticed some Shotokan influences but I've never seen anything quite like it before."

"Yes. Mishima Ryu. My grandfather founded the style. He trained in a number of different styles before founding his own, including Shotokan. What about you? What style do you train?"

It was Jun's turn to blink.

"I…- How do you know that I…?"

"You carry yourself like a fighter. It's in the way you move. And in your muscle definition. And just now – your analysis of my style – not something an outsider would say."

She still looked surprised, but also a little pleased.

"No one's ever assumed I fight before. Sometimes not even when I'm standing in a gi in a dojo," she laughed self-consciously. "I also practice a family style. It's more defensive than yours, more focussed on joint manipulation and throws."

"An aikido style?"

"More like Daito Ryu."

"Aiki-jujutsu. I'm intrigued. Perhaps we should spar some time." But then he thought back to the last time he fought with Chaolan and the places in his memory that were partially holes of blackness. He caught her watching him carefully, as if she could somehow see the darker places his mind had strayed to.

"I'd like that," she said carefully, still regarding him with that deep perceptive look.

They passed the remainder of the meal exchanging small stories and passing meaningless comments about the food, the venue, the city, anything really. Kazuya found himself speaking more than he had in a long time. Usually, aimless conversation bored him, but he didn't mind it with Kazama Jun. Somehow she made even the most inane conversation amusing to partake in. She never agreed with him unless it suited her, which was something he realised he valued a lot. So often people around him played a game of trying to manipulate his favour, and pander to his opinion and authority. Jun simply said whatever she felt and didn't even seem to notice that this might be a novel experience for him. She was easy going and open in all her interactions and only became reticent over the plum wine with peach sorbet when he asked her:

"So, how does an evening like this sit with the police department?"

Her mannerisms became mired in melancholy.

"It… doesn't really," she said, somewhat cryptically.

"Oh?"

She fiddled with her napkin and pushed her hair behind an ear.

"I've… removed myself from the case."

That hit him like a tonne of bricks. He sat staring forward. Had she done that for him? Because of whatever this was? Had he made her feel like she ought to? But she'd been the one to suggest going out for a meal.

"I confess I'm a little surprised. You… seemed very dedicated to that case."

"I was…" Jun was twisting a strand of hair round and round in her fingers and looking anywhere else. "But… Agent Lei is very capable." He was left with the distinct impression that that hadn't been what she was originally going to say. "And it wasn't right to meet in a more informal capacity whilst working the case. You would be worrying about what of your words I would bend to fit a law court. And rightfully so. I wouldn't want to talk to someone who I knew was out to use my own words against me. And I thought about what you said with Mr Lee, and I feel terrible that he spoke on my behalf whilst I-… Anyway, I thought this would be for the best."

He still couldn't quite believe that she'd really quit. Over him.

"What will you do now? Will you take up another case?"

She was still avoiding his eyes.

"Well, there'll probably be work for me back in Wakayama." He couldn't stop his face pulling an involuntary frown. "But I'm looking to stay in Tokyo for now," she added. His frown eased.

"I'm glad to hear it."

When they got up to leave Jun went over and thanked all the chefs again. She bowed to them and they bowed back caught up in a spiral of thanks. Kazuya shook his head. They entered the lift together and were joined a moment later by Bruce Irvin. Jun suddenly touched his arm and it was all Kazuya could do not to jump in surprise.

"Wait – did we pay for the meal? I was so busy thanking them that I clean forgot to-"

"The meal will be billed to the Zaibatsu," he said, regaining his composure and hating the faint curl of a smile he could see on Bruce's face.

"Oh." She sounded small again. Then she caught him off guard with a radiant smile given just to him, "thank-you very much, Kazuya."

His heartbeat pulsed harder and colour went to his cheeks. He pulled his shoulders back looked over into the corner of the lift where he could avoid her gravitational smile and Bruce's thin smirk.

Half an hour later they'd dropped Jun off on a street corner she'd been adamant was satisfactory, and Kazuya was sitting in his car with Bruce Irvin, being driven to his Tokyo residence.

"_Kazuya_?" Bruce asked, in a tone of slight mockery.

"Shut your mouth, Irvin, or you'll find my fist in it."

Bruce leaned back into the leather seats of the car, grinning and looking out the window.

"Don't think I've ever seen you go on a proper date in all the years I've known you, Boss."

"_Irvin,_" he warned.

"Does Lee know?"

Kazuya exhaled an exhausted breath.

"I don't know. Probably. Knowing him. He's always got his nose in my fucking business." In fairness to Chaolan, they firmly had their noses in each others respective businesses.

"He is _not_ going to let you live this down."

"He is if he knows what's good for him. Anyway, he was… tangentially involved in orchestrating the thing." Bruce whistled. Kazuya glared at him. "Want to get out and walk, Irvin?"

"No, sir. Just taking advantage of the fact that you ain't been in a mood as good as this in years."

"Fuck off."

Bruce folded his arms and looked forward, a sly smile still on his face.

Kazuya considered that. He did feel good. Light. As though a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The air felt easier to breath. The whir of neon light streaking outside the window had a kind of beauty to it he never remembered noticing before. The texture of the leather car seats under his fingertips and the cool window glass all felt more real somehow. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He found himself daydreaming of things that hadn't come to mind in twenty years. Sunlight in gardens, flashing off pools bordered by smooth stones. The whirl of an ornate kimono turning down narrow pebble walkways between manicured bonsais and screens of cultivated bamboo. Laughter. Someone calling his name. The sensation of being picked up and held close. Arms around him. Safety. The closeness of another human being. Trust. The face was always hazy. He knew from photographs what it should look like, but he always had trouble remembering his mother's features.

* * *

**Author Note: **Just a short chapter this week. In which Kaz and Jun default to talking about whales because neither are very good at flirting. Now I know a lot about whales too, and so do you. I'm on Twitter and Tumblr (erenaeoth) and answering from a list of fanfic asks this week, so send me a number or feel free to make up a question of your own if you have any questions to ask me!

_Tiffany91:_ I'm glad you're enjoying all the characters, and like Lei and Jun's relationship. I like the idea that they have their differences and very different approaches, but ultimately respect each other and want to look out for each other. It's going to cause some conflict in this instance, but I'll leave that for the story to unfold and tell ;)


	8. The Struggle to Subsist

Chaolan had taken a half day off to see Jae-suk to the airport. He was already feeling gloomy. Without people constantly around him, he had no reason to keep his mask of charm and optimism in place. Without that mask he forgot to keep trying and slumped back into the lonely company of his own bitterness. He took a deep breath as he walked up the steps of the Zaibatsu building. He checked his reflection in the windows and combed his hair out his face with his fingers. He stood up straighter and practised a smile, then kept it in place as he swept into the lobby.

"Good afternoon, Mika," he said to the receptionist.

"Mr Lee! You're here! Please go straight to the labs, there's a situation that requires your handling!" She was agitated. Nothing much agitated Mika. She'd seen a lot walk through those doors. Chaolan felt his heart sink. He gave a brief nod and called the elevator. As it took him down into the basement, he recalled what Kazama Jun had said about the music being unnerving. That had been the idea when he'd settled on it, but given that he was the most stressed person on a daily basis in the building, it perhaps hadn't been his wisest decision.

The laboratories on site at Zaibatsu building were a low key affair, mostly used for data consolidation and model running. Serious experimental procedures occurred in secure labs elsewhere. Chaolan at least knew he wasn't being called in because some mutant animal had broken free of a cage (again).

The source of the commotion turned out to be much worse than that.

The first thing he heard was smashing glass, the shatter of plastic, the clang of tinny metal falling to the ground and spinning somewhere, and repeated, desperate, sobbing pleas. The labs were built with a high ceiling, submerged underground and set into concrete. At least the sound wasn't going to carry and cause them trouble. Chaolan paused as a desktop monitor was hurled across his path and smashed open against a wall. The screen fractured and lay like a cracked black mirror at his feet. Chaolan steeled himself and walked into the commotion.

Half a dozen technicians were cowering at the far side of the wall, and half a dozen more Zaibatsu guards stood with weapons at their sides, shifting from foot to foot, unsure what to do with themselves. Chaolan caught sight of Bruce Irvin and the ex-sumo wrestler Ganryu, both high-ups in the Zaibatsu security, also keeping themselves well out of the picture. That could only mean one thing.

Kazuya was standing over a terrified lab technician with a wad of printed paper in one hand and his other balled into a fist. The man on the floor beneath him was trying to scrabble backwards away from him, tears staining his cheeks. Kazuya booted the man in the stomach and planted his foot on his chest, pinning him to the floor. A snarl was on his face. He pulled back his hand and got one solid punch into the technician's jaw before Chaolan was at his side.

"Kaz, Kaz…" Chaolan was all gentle, calm and placating tones. "Let it go, let it go. Whatever it is, this can't solve it. Let me help you." Kazuya shook his arm out of Chaolan's grip, eyes still wild as he glared down at his victim. "Come on, talk to me. Let's take this next door. It's me, Kaz. Don't waste your energy here. I can sort this out."

"You can't _sort it out!" _Kazuya spat.

"Sure I can. I sort everything out for you. Haven't I always? I've always been at your side, come on. Breathe. Calm down." He could at least see Kazuya trying to rein himself back. "That's it. Let's go to your office, I'll get you a drink."

Kazuya slowly lowered his fists and stepped his foot off the technician, who promptly scuttled under a desk and curled up fetally. Kazuya allowed himself to be led away, and Chaolan talked to him in soft soothing tones all the way up to the office.

When they got to the office, Chaolan threw open the windows, got a crystal glass from a hidden cabinet and poured Kazuya a dram of his favourite whiskey. He set him in his desk chair and put the glass in his hand. He pulled himself up onto the desk next to him.

"Better?" Chaolan asked.

Kazuya took a steady breath in through his nose. He still sounded like an incensed dragon, but his black eyebrows twitched and he nodded his head slightly.

"Now, tell me what all this is about. What's upset you?" Chaolan watched the smouldering things in his brother's eyes.

Kazuya downed the whiskey and set the glass down hard on the desk. He put his fingers to his forehead and bowed his face into his hand slightly. Chaolan was stirred with a faint sense of pity that was only slightly dwarfed by his concern about repair costs to the laboratory and the amount they'd have to pay out in personal damages.

"The results aren't right," Kazuya said at last.

"What results?" Chaolan asked patiently.

"The _results!_" Chaolan waited that answer out, keeping his expression calm regardless of the pace of his heartbeat. "The genetics test. The top priority genetic test I ordered at the start of last week. They've come back. They're just normal. But I know that isn't right."

"Kaz, we have to let the science speak for itself. We can try new formulas. Our scientists are working hard to get the results you want, and it's inevitably going to take time to-"

"_My _genetic results."

Chaolan frowned, shifting his weight on Kazuya's desk and folding his legs under him.

"How do you mean? Everything here is yours." He had a sinking feeling he might know what his brother was getting at.

"_My_ results," Kazuya said again. "From me. They're normal. And they shouldn't be. You know this."

Chaolan swallowed. He'd been trying not to think about what had passed in the Mishima dojo – the thing he'd seen. This was the first Kazuya had spoken of then too.

"Kaz…"

"Something isn't right with me. There's this… this anger. I feel this anger and this hate all day long and it's much worse than it used to be. Since I killed father, it keeps coming up, clouding my vision, and I lose parts of my… I don't recall all things well in the gaps. It gives me this rage… this power like nothing I-…"

"Kaz…" Chaolan reached out a hand. He hesitated, Kazuya was so rarely still the same person who'd grown up with him that even this small gesture had him concerned. He settled his hand on Kazuya's shoulder, "It's okay. It's going to be alright. We can get the doctors to check – plenty of illnesses don't show up at a molecular level, so-"

"It's not an illness. And I don't want to be cured of it. I want control of it. I want to use it and remember, I want to be the master of all my actions and thoughts. Whatever is inside me is a weapon. And it _is_ in my blood. I can feel it. Those good-for-nothing technicians are _wrong_."

Chaolan bit his lip and looked at him. He recalled the otherworldly way in which an eye had opened in his brother's forehead and swivelled to look at him, staring as if out the depths of hell itself. He looked away.

"Kazama Jun. She can help me."

"You are _not_ getting her involved in this. Not when you're like this. She is a good person. She doesn't need to see you violent and talking as if you're not in your right mind." Kazuya stared at him, fury pooling. Chaolan narrowed his eyes at him. "You want to push away the one good thing in your life? You want her to see you like this? After what you did to that poor man down there?"

Kazuya folded his arms and broke eye contact.

"I didn't do anything. A grazed lip and few bruises."

"And if I hadn't come in time?" Kazuya gave a huff. Chaolan massaged his own temples. He could feel a strong headache coming on. "Just take it easy, okay? Remember we have a police investigation ongoing. We can't afford any more casualties at this time."

"The test," Kazuya said abruptly.

"Alright, let me handle that. We'll take new blood samples, run the tests again. Run more than before." Kazuya's eyes were still black, so Chaolan continued adding to the list: "new scientists, new analysis methods."

Kazuya was nodding now, much to Chaolan's relief.

"Dr Bosconovitch."

"Sorry?"

"I want Dr Bosconovitch working on the gene testing."

"Who?"

"I met him some years back. He did work on cryogenics and genetics." Chaolan opened his mouth to protest. "And robotics." Chaolan shut his mouth. He was always asking Kazuya to grow their robotics r and d.

"I'll extend him an invitation to come and work for us."

Kazuya nodded.

"No one who sees my blood tests leaves the Zaibatsu alive."

Chaolan's face fell again,

"I-… That's… a little excessive isn't it, Kaz?"

"Is it?" He fixed Chaolan with a deadly look that was just that bit haunted. Chaolan thought back to the thing in the dojo, and what it might mean if the outside world ever heard of such a being.

"Alright. I'll see to it that the genetics teams are offered special bonuses and better pension rates. They're already sworn to secrecy, I'll make leaving very financially unjustifiable for them."

"And if they leave anyway?"

Chaolan swallowed, but put on a brave smile.

"As you say, no one leaves the Zaibatsu alive."

Kazuya nodded. He looked much calmer than earlier. The layers of reserve were slowly returning to him as his fury and anxiety quietened.

"I want Bosconovitch working here by the end of the week."

Chaolan gave an even more tested smile.

"I'll see what I can do."

Chaolan by this point was sure that he was drawing Kazuya's anger out of him and turning it into liquid stress for himself. He'd promised so much in such a short space of time that he could feel a tightness in his rib cage at the thought of trying to process it all.

"I'll go find details for this Bosconovitch and get on making arrangements for his transferral here, okay?"

Kazuya nodded. He was lost in thought again. Chaolan liked seeing him calm, and liked to know he could still do this – still be the only person to talk Kazuya down from one of his notorious rages. He dusted a few stray shards of glass from Kazuya's hair, then pushed himself off the desk and stood.

"I'll just be next door if you need me. Take a break. Have a smoke. Shall I pour you another glass?" Kazuya shook his head. "Tonight you're coming to my place. I'll order food and you can tell me all about your date, alright?" Kazuya nodded this time. Then he frowned.

"Wait, how do you know I went on a-"

"Got work to do now, we'll talk this evening, okay?" Chaolan blew him a kiss and stepped back through the office door. He stretched once the door shut behind him cracking his knuckles above his head. "Still got it," he mused to himself, then sat at his own desk to try and work out who Dr Bosconovitch might be and where in the world he was right now.

* * *

Jun had taken resumes to several public authorities that ran parks in the capital, and to a number of companies down at the wharfs and docks. She'd applied to a handful of NGOs based in the city and to one position at a university as a research technician in something she hadn't heard of before but required her skill set in an employee. She wasn't holding high hopes for being able to be out doing practical work, but she'd settle for anything that vaguely held her interest and fitted her general moral outlook.

The job she most wanted to get was one she was grossly overqualified for. The role was a glorified park warden, responsible for noting maintenance needed and keeping the general public from acting inappropriately in the city's central gardens, including Hibiya Park and the prestigious Kokyo Gaien National Garden. It would be a beautiful place to work and she liked the idea of being outside instead of moving from a box office to her box apartment and back. She thought perhaps with both the outdoors experience and the time working at a police precinct, that she might at least get interviewed for the position, but she received a letter in the post politely informing her that they had interviewed and already found a suitable candidate.

The next job was at a working docks in Shinkiba to the east. The commute by train wasn't too bad, but the work promised to be fairly dull – inspecting shipping containers for contraband and ensuring that protocols were followed and due matters were passed on to the police. She was interviewed for the position, but had the distinct impression that they'd made up their mind as soon as they met her that they didn't want her for the job. She returned home on the metro trying not to feel bitter about the ticket fare she'd paid to get there and back.

The next job that she heard from was one of the NGOs. She'd applied to work in a policy part of an animal welfare charity, with an aim to bringing her expertise on what laws to lobby the government to change. Whilst not outdoors, the thought of this work probably excited her the most. In her head she'd gone through a couple of things she'd particularly like to help with. The recent conversation with Kazuya had renewed her interest in whaling practices, and given the international pressure at present, she had high hopes for increased internal lobbying for greater whale protections. She was very excited when the charity rang her up. She was told that they didn't have any openings in the charity organising committee, but yes they loved her CV, and would she be interested in working behind the counter in one of their charity shop outlets? It wasn't what she'd hoped for, but it was work, and by this point it was coming on a week since she'd left the case with Lei. She wasn't too worried for money at this stage, but she felt she should probably play it safe and take them up whilst still waiting to hear back from other positions. She accepted the offer and went across town to meet the shop manager the next day, but was hastily told that there'd been a mix up – no, there was no opening here, and they wouldn't be able to take her even on the shop floor.

Jun had felt particularly down that evening. She'd sat still and meditated, but mostly ended up dreaming of back home. Vivid tastes of Yaukshima came to her: the sound of rainwater trickling down cut bamboo pipes running under the roof; the slight clatter of wooden shutters when a storm was coming but they hadn't yet been locked up tight; the smell of woodsmoke filling the family room from a cut square hearth set in the floor; the way the light came in through the high carved patterns above the doorways and cast larger, shadowy versions of those scenes onto the far walls; the hazy dark world beyond the sliding screen bug nets before the main doors had been closed for the night, and the wild wind and tossing trees in the indistinct gloom.

That night she dreamed of simple things: being back on the mountains in Wakayama with a long hike above her, dangling her feet off the village jetty back on Yakushima, talking nothings with Mishima Kazuya under half lighting with good food and iced tea.

The first time she suspected there was a problem was at the interview for the university job. Two academics were interviewing her, both men in their early fifties. They didn't look at her for the first five minutes of the interview, instead perusing her resume in front of them and making comments about it.

"Yes, you meet the basic requirements for the position," one said, "but do you really have the practical skills required?"

"I don't think she has the practical skills required," the next one put in before Jun could answer.

She gave a slightly anxious smile,

"Which practical skills in particular?"

"Doesn't even know which practical skills," the second one muttered, as if she couldn't hear.

"Hm, well, Miss Kazama. This is a research technician job, and you've got nothing here on previous lab experience, so I'm assuming you don't know about laboratory practices."

"The advert said you were looking for someone who's good with live animals – collecting data in a veterinary practice so that it could be inputted for your… biology work."

"_Hah! _Biology work! Hmph, Miss Kazama, I think you mean physiological zoology."

"Yes. That."

"Well, yes, whilst it's true laboratory knowledge isn't a must, it really wouldn't do to have you wandering around the labs a without a basic sense of what's going on."

"Why would I have to walk around any labs?" Jun asked, trying not to sound too confrontational, "Wouldn't I be based in the veterinary hospital? I've been in lots of those before."

The professors before her shuffled their papers and whispered to one another.

"Hm, well. That may be. Now, moving on. There's this other matter." A paper was shuffled to the front of a stack. "Now, this isn't necessarily a problem in our department, but for clarity we would like you to explain your links to the Mishima Zaibatsu."

Jun blinked.

"I'm sorry, my what?"

"Your links to the Mishima Zaibatsu. We have here a note from your former employers noting your resignation was required due to inappropriate ties with the Zaibatsu."

Jun blushed and her palms become sweaty.

"That's not… who sent you that? I quit of my own accord, no one required-"

"But you do have links to the Zaibatsu, is that correct? We understand that you may be required for possible further questioning for professional misconduct and this is really what has us on the ropes here. You do meet the job requirements better than most, but we've got plenty of candidates applying who don't have this black mark against their name."

"You've been sent…? I don't understand. I resigned at my own discretion from my last position, there isn't any legal ground for you to have any further information on-"

"Miss Kazama, this really isn't any concern of ours. The fact of the matter is, the police department saw fit to furnish us with this warning against your character, and we take such things very seriously here. We've got the reputation of the University of Tokyo to uphold, and we simply can't have someone employed here with a track record for unprofessional behaviour involving the Mishima Zaibatsu. Now, we here are willing to overlook that if you can get a reference clearing this all up from the Zaibatsu. Mr Mishima is a very generous benefactor to our research departments and we don't wish any quarrel with him. So how about you run along and get us a statement from the Zaibatsu and we'll consider the whole affair as null. It will be nice to have closer ties to the Zaibatsu in our faculty actually," the professor trailed off thoughtfully as he said that.

"Anyone with Mishima Zaibatsu backing can just have the job as far as I'm concerned," the other professor said, without much attempt to hide the admission.

Jun left, adamant that she wasn't taking that job.

And that left her with a whole new problem. Just how many other jobs she'd applied to had been 'warned' by her old precinct that she was unprofessional and had effectively been dismissed from her last post?

She stayed stoic all that evening as she cooked herself dinner. She stayed stoic as she pulled out a table from where it was tucked away, and sat on the floor and ate. She stayed stoic as she put the table away again and rolled out her futon. But as she was lying on her bed she pulled her covers up despite it being hot and stuffy in the little apartment and cried quietly into the blankets.

The next morning Jun got up and practised a kata in a straight line back and forth in her narrow apartment until the sweat ran down her back. She steamed stress out her limbs in a hot shower, then sat in her underwear and meditated as the hot morning sun came in stripes through the window and a kettle boiled water for her tea on the stove. She breakfasted on freshly made plain rice with the last of the fresh vegetables in her fridge, then combed her hair and dressed in clean clothes. She spent the next two hours trawling through newspapers, circling possible job adverts, determined not to let yesterday's revelation sway her perseverance to stay in the city.

At twelve o'clock she started walking into the city centre to save on the train fare, and because time was something she was not short on now. She was meeting Lei Wulong for lunch – the first time she'd had a chance to catch up with him since taking herself off the case. The humidity was starting to climb again now that the thunderstorms had worn out their cleansing breath.

They met in a poky, cheap street food cafe a few blocks from the old precinct. She beat Wulong to the cafe and watched him approach through the grimy glass. He wore his shirt rolled up to his sleeves, top button undone, with an attempt at a tie dangling round his neck. He looked much more tired and weary than she remembered. When he saw her though, a grin lit up his face and some of that old infectious enthusiasm sparked through him.

"Kazama!" he greeted warmly, giving her an old Chinese martial arts salute with fist to palm.

"Good to see you, Lei," she gave him a small bow and sat back down.

"Ordered yet?"

"I was waiting for you."

"Nice, nice. Lunch is on me." Jun made to protest but he shook his head firmly. "Saying it now to get the awkward out the way. Only one of us with a job right now, Kazama. You're far too honourable for your own good. You know, I know half a dozen cops who've got personally entangled with cases and never given them up, and there you go relinquishing the thing before you've even… well, you know. I just wanted to say. Takes guts to do what you did. You're a good cop. Or… whatever you see yourself as. Animal cop."

She couldn't help but laugh at that, despite all the sore things his words touched on. The air eased between them as the ghost of something anxious lifted from him on seeing her laugh. They ordered battered pancakes sprinkled with seaweed, and deep fried cakes filled with red bean paste, and stir fried yakisoba with waterchestnuts and soy sauce and shared everything between them, enthusiastically filing each other in on the weeks they'd had.

"And you would not_ believe_ the guy they've assigned to me in your place. I swear, he's never done a day on an investigation in his whole life – it beats me how he's made it this far up the ranks. Everything I say, he's like a stuck record – there's no evidence for that, that's not in the police report – well, no shit there's no evidence, dumbass, it's called a theory, we got to go _collect_ the evidence and to see if there's anything to it! And by the way, this is the second guy they gave me – that's right, Kazama, I got through two in a week, don't laugh, that's rude." Jun had nearly choked on a noodle as Lei gave her an unimpressed but still amused look. "Right, so the first guy they gave me, I made the mistake of telling about my Jurassic-Park-Magic-Supersoldier theory. The guy immediately asked for a transfer and filed a report against my mental health. Well, tough luck for the Tokyo Met Police, I don't work for them so what they think of my health means fuck all. Anyway, yeah, so they gave me this by-the-book pencil pusher instead. They're trying to kill my investigation and I know it. They want me out their city, out their country, and I think some folks are even starting to wonder, what's some Hong Konger doing trying to stick it to a respected Japanese business."

"I was under the impression the Zaibatsu had lots of enemies in the police department."

"Sure, sure. And they do. Lot of mutual hate there. But I'm not so sure everyone's on the same page with that. Leastwise, when I brought a lead in last week they-"

"Lei…"

"Huh?"

Jun fixed him with sad brown eyes,

"You can't talk the case with me."

He gave a wistful, apologetic smile.

"Well, I'm talking too much about myself anyway. How about you, Kazama? You holding up okay?"

Jun gave a slightly stiff smile.

"It…- Things have been better."

"I bet they have. Any luck on work? Are your organisation – what are they called? – are they going to be able to fix you up with something here in Tokyo? Or what's the plan?"

Jun broke up some of the bean cake with her chopsticks and poked it into her mouth. It was hot and greasy and warming in a decadent kind of way.

"The WWWC. No they don't have anything else in Tokyo. It's rare enough that they're given this kind of case to work. Usually the work is much more rural. They actually don't have any further work for me at the moment even in Wakayama. We're relatively small in numbers and they'd anticipated this case taking quite some time, so had already outsourced all the other work the government contracted to us. It's going to be a good month or two before anything new comes in, and even then, not any guarantee."

"Shit," Lei said around a mouthful of noodles. "You going to be alright?"

"Yes, yes I think so." Jun turned her attention to her food, and pushed her hair behind her ear. "I've been applying to various jobs here but… no luck so far." She hesitated, wondering if she should say anything more to him. In the end, she swallowed her pride and looked up. "Actually I-… I think someone in the department might be interfering in my job applications,… looking to sabotage them."

Lei's mouth dropped open and some noodles tumbled out. He hastily shoved them back in, chewed and swallowed.

"They _what_?!"

"Someone's been passing on information to potential employers that I was pressured to resign for professional misconduct. And they've been mentioning the Zaibatsu specifically by name in relation to it."

Lei's face went livid.

"How-… how _dare_ they?! What fucked up bas-"

"I don't want you to get into any more trouble with the precinct. I know they're already making your work hell to do. But I'd appreciate it a lot if you could keep an eye open – I don't know what you can do really."

"I'll go right in there and tell them what I-"

"Lei,… we both know that won't achieve anything other than giving them a substantial reason to fob you off on some other precinct and maybe even close the investigation altogether. At the moment I don't know if this was more than just a one off. And the application in question did require a reference from a previous employer, so perhaps it's nothing more than a bad reference."

"Wait – you think it might be more than that? You think they might be sending unsolicited letters to places you're applying to work at?!"

Jun hesitated,

"Like I said, I don't know anything for certain…"

"Kazama, that would mean they'd have to be watching you. Have to be seeing where you were walking. They'd have to be expending manpower to pull that kind of vindictive stunt!"

"A-and I'm not saying they are, I just-"

"Sounds pretty damn plausible actually. I've met these folks and there are some pretty nasty pieces of works closeted up in that dept."

Jun gave a slight smile, grateful that she was being taken seriously.

"Well, that's all I mean when I'm asking you to keep an eye out. If you notice anyone… following me…" It sounded silly when she said it out loud.

"Kazama, this is serious. If you're right, this means you've made some pretty hefty enemies in the police. And listen, I hate to say this but, I'm up to my neck working this case and I'm just one guy – I can't keep an eye on you the way you deserve. But if you think you might be in danger and the police are the problem… I'm not saying I agree with organised crime or anything, Kazama, you know me – true to the core – but maybe you should ask Mr Mishima-"

"Absolutely not. I can handle myself."

"Kazama, at the very least, he's got the manpower to make sure the police only do their jobs and don't get some extra curricular ideas."

"What about Interpol?"

"What _about_ Interpol? They put one guy on a case to take down the Mishima Zaibatsu, that should tell you all you need to know about their willingness to expend resources at any time or place."

"I'm not hiding behind the Zaibatsu. I was tasked with holding them to account."

"And now you've removed yourself from the case. You're not bound by that any more, Kazama." He nudged the last of the battered pancake towards her and sat back, cracking open a bottle of cola.

"Whoever is writing those salacious things about me wants people to believe I'm corrupt and working for the Zaibatsu. I'm not going to prove them right by using the Zaibatsu to shield myself from the city police department."

"You may not have a lot of choice here."

"There's always a choice."

"Well, all I'm saying is – it's going to be a rough ride getting work if you've got a force of cops piling their energy into making that impossible." Jun sat up straight and pulled back her shoulders. She held a full silence and finished off the pancake, plucking up the stray batter with her chopsticks. Lei gave a heavy sigh. "Are you sure you want to stay? In Tokyo, I mean. There's got to be better places for you than here."

"I'm staying," she said firmly. And her thoughts immediately went to that dusky look Kazuya would give her from underneath heavy, curious eyebrows, his lips parted somewhere between amusement and fascination.

"Are you sure he's…- Alright, alright." He held up his hands in resignation on seeing the stubborn shadow that settled on her face.

She thanked him for lunch and promised to be in contact if she spotted anyone tailing her. Afterwards, she wasn't sure whether to be pleased or frightened that he'd taken her concern to heart when she'd confided that she might be being followed. The long walk back to her apartment seemed much more disturbing, even in the broad daylight. She kept checking over her shoulder and glancing in shop windows to see who might be behind her, just out of sight, flitting in the corner of her vision.

That afternoon she sat cloistered up in her narrow windowsill with a new newspaper in her lap and a red pen in hand. Her eyes ached from scouring the small print and she kept loosing herself in the grey monotony of the urban landscape rearing beyond her window. The concrete and glass and brick and steel rose so high that she couldn't even see any streets from her seat. Small polygons of sky were visible through the gaps in the highrises. Shafts of sunlight became weaker as the sun began to sink back behind the sentinel towers populating the skyline. She chewed the top of her pen.

Speaking with Wulong had been the first casual social interaction she'd had all week. Everything else had been sparse words in shops or tense, fake, pleasantries to potential employers in interviews or on the phone. Far from satiating her need for human contact, lunch with Wulong had made her realise what she'd been missing so much in the last week, and left her feeling more empty than before. There was no time for people in cities. Things happened inside tiny isolated spheres. Not like in the countryside, where grocery shopping might be the only time you got to inquire after someone's health, and the ritual of checking in on one another ensured no one fell through the cracks and everyone was missed if some emergency befell them. In a city, you could drop dead on the metro, and Jun was sure no one would notice for days.

She tried to shake off the melancholy that had seized her. She got up and went to the telephone. She reached for it tentatively. She'd been hoping Kazuya might call her, perhaps indicating that communicating with her was a mutually desired endeavour. She couldn't help but feel uncertain of herself and her position with him as she dialled in the Zaibatsu office number.

"Lee Chaolan, Mishima Zaibatsu."

Jun twirled her finger in the phone wire nervously.

"I'm very sorry to disturb you on the office line, Mr Lee, only I don't have another number and I was just-"

"I'll put you through to him now."

Jun's breath paused in her lungs, she hadn't quite mentally prepared what to say or-

"Mishima Kazuya speaking." She said nothing in response. "Hello?"

"Hello,… it's-"

"Kazama," he breathed out her name like it was long held sigh. Her cheeks warmed and she held the phone receiver closer. There was something about just hearing his voice that made so many of the struggles of the last few days that much more distant and irrelevant.

"Sorry to ring during your work hours. I wasn't sure how else to contact you." She paused, trying to think back to the restaurant meal they'd shared there, suddenly unsure if it had gone down well. She'd talked a lot. Perhaps that had put Kazuya off. Perhaps he had better things to do with his time than answer unending phonecalls from a wildlife officer and hearing about stupid whales out at sea. Why had she talked so much about whales? Very not cool. "I mean – if you still don't mind me contacting you. If you'd rather I-"

"I don't mind." An abrupt silence. A shy relief seeped through Jun. She found herself smiling even though no one could see. "So… did you call for a particular reason?"

She started,

"Oh, yes." She reconsidered. "Uh… well, maybe not really." Now she felt foolish again. "I wanted…" To hear his voice. Was the honest answer. To not be alone. But she wasn't about to say that. She trailed into silence. It was always harder speaking to him over the phone. She couldn't read his silences, feel his emotions, notice the slight ways he spoke with gestures and the intensity of his eyes alone.

"I'm glad you called. There's a matter I wanted to discuss with you." He had his business voice on. She couldn't help but be a little disappointed. "You met with Lei Wulong today, what did you speak to him about?"

She stopped stock still.

"What- Did-… Are you having me _followed_?"

"No, I'm having Agent Lei followed. Now, answer me. What did you speak with him about?"

"It's no business of yours what I spoke to him about! I said I wasn't working the case any more, don't you trust that I'd keep my word?"

Kazuya's tongue clicked with impatience,

"Just tell me what you spoke about."

"I owe you nothing, Mishima Kazuya! I'm not someone you can just snap your fingers at and expect to obey you. That might be what you're used to at the Zaibatsu, but I do not belong to the Zaibatsu or to anyone!"

She hung up. She'd never hung up on anyone before.

She slumped down the wall until she was sitting draped over her knees pressing her eyes into them.

The phone rung a minute later. She didn't answer it.

She sat still and silent as the sun slid lower and darkness crept into the narrow apartment. A fan standing on the floor rotated slowly left and right, turning warm air with a faint, consonant whir. The newspaper she'd been searching through earlier lay crumpled on the floor, crisp pages twitching in the flutter of the fan.

Half an hour passed.

The phone rang again.

She snaked a hand up and pulled it off the hook and put it to her ear. She said nothing.

"I shouldn't have asked that."

"No," she said, "you shouldn't." Another quiet. She could hear his breathing. She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.

"Do you want to meet up for tea some time?"

"Yes."

"Next Wednesday?"

"Sooner, please."

"… Tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"How about 3PM in the Zaibatsu Lobby?"

"3PM and tell me the place. I'll meet you there."

He gave her the address of a traditional tea house. She sat for a while longer after the conversation had finished, just holding the phone and staring into the lengthening shadows.

* * *

**Author Note: **He's trying ok. He's only good at scheming and punching: dating is a new phenomenon for him. I like the idea that Kaz and Jun are actually very similar in the way they deal with problems. They keep it all inside themselves until it literally becomes such a huge problem that they casually confide about two lines about it to someone they trust. Masters of saying nothing and hoping that a tough outlook will solve everything.

Thanks very much for the reviews! _Tifanny91_: very glad you liked the last chapter- Kazuya being wary about trusting people and letting them into his life but also really wanting to have some human contact with someone, is exactly the feeling I wanted that chapter to have. He's probably not paused to relax many times in his entire life. _ThalieXVII: _I'm glad you're enjoying the chapters and that they feel consistent with but different from _Fortified by Hate_ (sorry for always making Lee cry, I blame Kazuya!). I wanted Kaz to feel like he's utterly changed, and yet on closer inspection, he's still there - he was always like this, and yet it's somehow worse - he's let his darker habits and attitude become exacerbated. I want both Kaz and Lee in this story to feel like they've insulated themselves much more than in _Fortified by Hate_, and yet they're still not the fine honed versions of themselves we'll see 20 years down the line...


	9. Meditations on Beauty

Kazuya made sure he was early for his meeting with Jun. He walked up a flag path parting immaculate trimmed gardens, toward an old teahouse built in the traditional style, raised off the ground and all tatami floors. He was surprised when he found Jun already seated inside. She was dressed in an easy fashion – not for work, and not for a formal occasion. A black shawl was about her neck and she sat in a white tank top and loose trousers, both patterned with a hypnotic black crow print. There was something striking and almost haunting about here entirely monochrome garb. He always preferred to wear colour, finding some way to outclass his business opponents was always foremost on his mind. It felt like a shallow choice next to Jun's understated one.

He sat himself down heavily on the tatami opposite her. It had been a long time since he sat like this. It reminded him of stiff traditions kept under his father's roof. His father had liked this teahouse too, he recalled. Kazuya's face sunk into dark recollection. His mood couldn't remain with Jun before him however. He found himself returning to look at her and the way the gardens were framed by the open sliding walls behind her. The Kantoku-tei teahouse was set in amidst a beautiful traditionally kept manicured landscape, complete with an arching bridge over still water and trees trimmed to perfect differing heights so as not to impede a view from the teahouse. The only thing really marring the view was the placement of various Zaibatsu guards about the establishment.

Kazuya ordered tea before he finally broke the silence between them.

"Sorry about yesterday."

She nodded in response.

Kazuya frowned, trying to read her expression. He'd been surprised when she'd hung up on him. No one had hung up on Mishima Kazuya before. He'd even been angry. But the cool off period afterwards had given him the time to see how his words might have conveyed a mistrust that was perhaps unwarranted. He shifted in seiza, trying not to think of how often he'd sat like this in his father's dojo, or at his silent dinner table, glaring at Chaolan who would always try to say the right thing to avoid their father's temper. Kazuya had never been good at saying the right thing. Or at avoiding their father's temper.

"Something is bothering you."

He raised his eyebrows. She seemed to be able to read when his thoughts were disturbed. He shrugged.

"Places like this remind me of my childhood home."

It was her turn to hesitate now,

"And that is something that… bothers you?"

His eyes darkened.

"There are not many good memories from that place."

"Your father… Mishima Heihachi-" She paused when he flinched at the name. "All I know of him is what he presented to the world. He always seemed very charismatic, very calm, very charming."

Kazuya's lips formed a thin, bitter smile.

"Sounds just like him. Or the him he wished to be seen anyway."

"He disappeared after you beat him in that tournament."

"Good fucking riddance." He didn't meant to let that much hate out in a public place. He glanced around him. Tea was brought and set before them. Kazuya and Jun both waited until the waiter had left them in peace before returning to the conversation. Kazuya opened a cherrywood caddy and spooned an abundance of sencha into the little teapot.

"Is he dead?"

Kazuya's hand paused. Then he continued spooning the tea.

"Yes."

He set down the leaves and picked up the pot swilling it twice before pouring a small cup, one for each of them.

"How did he die?"

Kazuya picked up a cup and sipped. The soft herbal touch of the tea was soothing and stilled heated memories churning inside him. He locked eyes with Jun.

"I threw him off a cliff."

She looked at him. He couldn't tell if she was angry, afraid, anything.

"Do you regret it?"

"Greatest moment of my life." He could see something in her now. Something like sadness. "You wouldn't feel that way if you'd met him."

"Mr Lee. He still works for you even though-… Does he know?"

"Know what? That I killed our father? Of course. Probably the only reason he's still working for me. He knows he owes me big for that."

He saw confusion enter her eyes. To be expected. There wasn't any way anyone could comprehend what life had been like before this. Before this freedom. He steeled himself for her moralising reprimands.

"I can feel things that other people feel." He frowned at that non-sequitur, holding her gaze with his. She elaborated. "It's something I've always been able to do, ever since I can remember. People, animals, sometimes even other life. I can't explain it. It's… like a strange current of air, bringing me emotions that I know aren't mine. Sometimes it's indistinct and confused, but… I can feel what other people feel." She had such an earnest expression, that he found he couldn't doubt that confession for an instant. "I don't like to talk about it. Most people will think I'm not right in the head, but everyone universally feels invaded. And they have a right to. It is invasive. But I can't help it or block it out. I just have to feel the things other people feel with them."

He poured himself more tea, watching the half sphere cup twirl with murky green liquid just dusted with the little leaves that had crumbled small enough to avoid the strainer.

"And what do you feel from me?"

"Hate," she said instantly, "so much hate. Anger. It's not so bad today. But sometimes it's so big I feel like it's crushing the whole room." He watched her intently. "Do you really feel all that… all the time?"

He looked at her through the steam of his tea.

"All the time."

She shook her head.

"How can you stand it?"

"It makes me strong."

"It must be exhausting. And so-… Does it not-… Do you not feel like… like the world is slipping away from you? To feel nothing but that hate all the time for everything-"

"Not for everything." That slipped out. Things always slipped out around Kazama Jun.

She frowned, but he kept staring at her, and eventually he saw a blush creep up her cheeks with realisation. She glanced away and quickly picked up her tea and sipped at it. He swilled the teapot again and poured them both another cup after she'd set hers back down.

"So do you tell all the men in your life that you can read their emotions, or is this a special exception?"

"I could say the same of you: very blazé to confess patricide to a virtual stranger."

"You're hardly a stranger. You were a stranger when you asked me if you were going to die of radiation in my 'factory', which by the way isn't a factory."

Jun covered her face with a hand at the recollection.

"That was a very valid concern."

He gave a smirk. He enjoyed the black edge to this humour, but he knew that was more his comfort zone than hers. The knowledge he'd killed Heihachi had shaken her.

"I kept you radiation free, didn't I?"

"Yes, you're very good at hiding things, Mr Mishima."

"Thank-you, I've been practising since the age of five." Too much. There was curiosity in her eyes. Fuck. He only spoke this freely with Chaolan, who knew every secret Kazuya had to hide.

"Something happened then?"

"A convenient number to pluck from thin air." He could see she wasn't buying that.

"Tell me."

"Another day."

Her eyes softened. He wondered if she could feel what he felt. This heavy weight. This sorrow. This pain. This anger. This fury. This tenacity and stubbornness and endless hate that had driven him every day since.

"Another day," she agreed.

"So," he settled back, tilting his head a little, "I've been thinking about what you spoke about when we last met. About whales."

Jun covered her face with a hand again. The way she showed embarrassment like that was endearing, like she was admitting to letting too much of her passion out rather than feeling awkward over some past mistake.

"I did talk a lot about whales. Not the kind of thing one wants to talk about to impress Mr Mishima."

"On the contrary, Mr Mishima was very impressed. I'm also flattered that you wanted to impress me," he added slyly, watching her face redden. He laughed. "Taking a fishing boat out to sea in order to join an international vessel and harpoon a Japanese ship. Takes guts. I like it."

"The legality of that is a little up for dispute, so maybe let's keep that one between us."

Kazuya gave a wry smile. It hardly compared to murder, after all.

"But there was one thing that perplexed me. You did all those things – put yourself at risk even – but why? What did you hope to gain? Surely you knew you couldn't stop a whole fleet? And why did it matter? Stopping a couple of whales dying. I don't mean to be disparaging of your… chosen occupation, but what's the point? What did whales ever do for you?"

"I knew I couldn't stop the fleet."

"So why do it? Why waste all your-… spend all your energy trying to stop animals dying? Does it really matter if those whales die out? Humans are part of the natural order of things too. It's always been the case that the strong survive and the weak die. You don't owe those creatures anything. Humans are stronger, so why shouldn't we do as we please?"

"A nice light conversation over tea."

"I didn't mean t-"

"No, it's fine." Jun took a deep breath. She shifted her weight until she was sitting cross-legged. She thought for a moment. "Why are there any other members of the Zaibatsu?" Kazuya gave her quizzical look. "I've seen you fight. You could take them all. Why leave them alive if you're strong enough to kill all of them?"

"That's not the same at all," he said, a fraction irritably. "The Zaibatsu runs as a business and lots of people are needed to get on with small tasks – I can't do all of it myself."

"What you mean is that you rely on other people in order for your way of life to be sustainable. People aren't isolated individuals, they are part of communities that together contribute to a common life. You couldn't do it on your own. The rest of the world is like that too, but far more essential than just the Zaibatsu dynamic. The air we breathe, the food we eat, the resources we use are all made and maintained by a world in balance, and by upsetting that balance ultimately we are destroying ourselves."

"You think letting whales die is tantamount to destroying the human race?" He couldn't keep the derogatory amusement from his voice.

"Absolutely." Jun said with an earnesty that irked him. He folded his arms. "Whales are more complicated and I don't know about the specific diets of Minke whales, but let me give you a different example. There have been observations in the Baltic sea where pike and perch are overfished. These are carnivorous fish who feed on smaller fish. Overfishing pike and perch led to direct increases in the smaller fish they had been eating. Now the smaller fish fed on snails and crustaceans that largely ate algae. So crustaceans that previously regulated levels of algae were suddenly depleted. Are you following?"

"I'm following. Where is this going?"

"I'm getting there. The increase in algae led to algal blooms. Have you heard of them?"

He had at some point.

"Vaguely."

"I'm surprised, Mr Mishima. As an international businessman, you should know the devastating effect algal blooms can have on environments, including human ones. When algae grows so rapidly that it spreads across entire surfaces of water, no light can penetrate through the top levels of water. Everything beneath starts to die. Mass deaths of creatures living in those waters: fish, mammals, birds,… along with increased toxins in the waters and in any animals farmed from there, resulting in human illnesses and death. Creatures literally suffocating to death, massive ecosystem collapse… all because a few species of fish were overfished. Things are connected. If you care about human survival, it takes a lot more than perseverance and guts. It takes knowledge and compassion."

He liked the way her dark eyes and heavy lashes flashed when she was serious. There was a sharpness and a keenness to her that somehow ended up captivating him even with topics that had previously borne no interest for him.

"I hadn't thought of it that way. I assumed you just wanted to protect the animals because you liked them or something."

"Can't we also appreciate things just for what they are without considering their utility to humans?"

"… Does that mean you do also just like saving animals for the hell of it?"

"Of course."

He shook his head.

"You were just starting to make sense to me."

"I wouldn't want to bore you, Mr Mishima."

"_Hah. _No risk of that. And I told you, call me Kazuya."

"Jun," she said. And he hesitated. She gave him a smile, "I'd like it if you called me by my personal name too."

It was his turn to look unsure of himself. He gave a slight nod. In the corner of his eye he saw Bruce shift in the shadows. Kazuya checked his watch.

"I have to get back to the Zaibatsu." He saw her face fall, but she kept a small smile in place.

"Oh, okay."

"We should do this again some time." She nodded. There were unwritten things there that he couldn't quite tease out. Perhaps she didn't want to see him again after he'd told her caring for animals was stupid. He inspected that look a little longer. It wasn't that. "Are you doing alright at the moment? Keeping well even though you've dropped the case?"

"Don't worry about me," she said quickly, "I don't want to keep you from important business."

He should have asked after her earlier. Why hadn't he asked her how she was? He'd assumed somehow that, given what light she brought into his own life, surely being in her own company all of the time was one unending stream of sunshine. Now that he looked closer, there was tired and a harrowed weariness in some of her movements. Her hands tightened in her lap under his inspection.

"I'll call you," he said. "Does Chaolan have a number you can be reached on?"

She nodded.

"Thank you for the tea."

"Thank you for putting up with my stupid questions."

She gave a small smile tipped with humour. He returned it, glad she'd noticed the allusion to that unfortunate interview where he'd called her questions stupid and flown into a rage.

"You're surprisingly reasonable for someone with no interest in the world around him aside from profit, Kazuya."

"Power, Jun. Not profit. Profit is a means to an end. Power is what's important."

"A disagreement for another day."

"I'll look forward to it."

He was loathe to leave. He stood though and straightened his suit jacket over his blazing red shirt. He glanced back once. The eyes that met his were tugging and urgent and from that moment on he didn't mind admitting to himself that he wanted to be around this person who incredibly seemed to need his company as much as he needed hers.

* * *

Chaolan was in the middle of hand writing a reply to the most important social function of the economic year. He was particularly pleased by the elegant sweep of his calligraphy and had the CD demo of Jae-suk's band playing in his headphones in order to retain his concentration. As his ink pen swept down the page, he became aware of the door to his office opening. He tried to ignore the interruption and focus on his task, flicking up the volume on the CD walkman. Eventually the presence of a body hopping anxiously from foot to foot before his desk became too apparent to ignore. He pulled his headphones off and set his pen down irritably.

The woman before him was from recruitment. He recalled her family name being something like Nonaka. She wore a professional suit and skirt, red glasses, and a yellow blouse that poked through her blazer. In Chaolan's opinion, no one who only owned a red pair of glasses should have a yellow shirt in their wardrobe.

"Mr Lee…" the woman started. He gave her a forced smile.

"It's Nonaka, right?"

"Yes, sir. I have a report to give to Mr Mishima."

"Go right ahead," he gestured to Kazuya's door. As he expected, she remain before his desk.

"M-mr Lee…" she said again, this time with more trepidation. "Please-… please would you give it to him?"

Chaolan's face soured at the predictable request. Zaibatsu staff were always asking him to handle giving Kazuya bad news.

"I'm not in charge of recruitment, Nonaka. It's your job to report to Mr Mishima, or do you believe you currently have too many responsibilities in the Zaibatsu?" She fixed him with a haunting silent look. Chaolan closed his eyes and sat back. He sighed heavily and rubbed his brow. "Leave me the file."

"Thank you so much, Mr Lee. Thank you so much!" Nonaka place the file on his desk and backed out of the room, bowing profusely.

Chaolan picked up the file and flicked through it. _Fuck. _She was right that Kazuya wouldn't like this. He looked at the drying ink on his half finished letter.

He rolled his chair away from the desk at stood. He scratched his head and checked his appearance in the darkening window of his office. He took several deep breaths and held the file to him. He knocked on Kazuya's door.

"Enter."

Chaolan slipped inside, trying to keep his existence faint so as not to tread too heavily into Kazuya's temper.

"Chaolan," Kazuya greeted. "You look shifty as fuck. What is it? Bad news?"

Chaolan cursed internally.

"Well, there are two things I need to speak to you about. One is th-"

"That file cover is navy. That means that's from recruitment. Have Dr Bosconovitch's transfer papers gone through?"

"A-about that…" Chaolan had been hoping not to end up stammering so early. Kazuya's gaze sunk into smouldering fury. "Kaz, that look there is why no one wants to set foot in here and why I have to deliver f-"

"_Bosconovitch_, Chaolan. Tell me what the fuck has gone wrong."

"He said no," Chaolan decided plain was the best approach. Kazuya's face went livid. "We offered double his current salary, then treble, then a blank cheque and all the facilities and staff he wanted. Even offered to hire all his current staff on larger salaries too. He's not having it, Kaz. He said he was opposed to working for you on moral grounds."

"Fuck moral grounds!" Kazuya exploded. He rose from his chair. Chaolan checked where the door was and took a few calculated steps back.

"I'm sorry, Kazuya, we've done all that we can. I gave HR the go ahead to get this done with any budget they needed, but we've offered all we can."

Kazuya came round the edge of his desk. His shoulders were hunched like a wild animal stalking its prey and there was fire in his eyes. Chaolan found his back against the office door rather sooner than he would have liked.

"_Offered_? I gave you no such instruction, Chaolan."

Chaolan's face furrowed with confusion. He needed to resolve this situation fast, because he could feel that mounting, boiling pressure steaming off his brother.

"You-… you said-"

"I said I wanted him working here. I didn't specify how. I just said make it happen."

Chaolan's tongue passed over his lower lip as he realised what Kazuya was saying.

"You… you want me to _kidnap_ him?"

"I want him _working_ in my _laboratory_, _Chaolan._ I don't care _how_ it happens. Get it _done._" Chaolan swallowed, and nodded. Kazuya backed off a bit. He turned and stood before his window and folded his arms. "You said there was another matter."

Chaolan took a second to pull himself together and calm the rapid pace his heart had stuttered into.

"Yes, um. Did you get my memo about the State Benefactors Annual Ball?_"_

"What about it?" Kazuya was still looking out the window. His temper was cooling off more rapidly than it normally did. He wondered if the sudden time off Kazuya had announced he was taking today might have something to do with it. He had an inkling of who's company Kazuya might have been keeping.

"It's next weekend. We've been invited as usual, along with a plus one ticket. I wanted to ask you if I could take Jae-suk."

"Fine. As long as he looks respectable and doesn't come in ski goggles and that hoodie of his."

Chaolan gave a fond smile at the memory. It already felt like too long since he'd seen Jae-suk.

"And… you have a plus one ticket too, if you want to use it."

Kazuya froze. Chaolan wondered if it was too early to make such a suggestion. It really would make his life a lot easier if he could have Jun around to handle Kazuya's temper though. Kazuya rolled his shoulders, betraying his unease. He pulled a cigarette out of his breast pocket and lit it. He took a pull and breathed out smoke, fogging up the window.

"Would it be remiss of me to extend an invitation to Officer Kazama on your behalf?" Chaolan asked. More smoking. Kazuya was staring very intently at the window. "Shrug once for me if that wouldn't be such a terrible idea." Kazuya gave a non-committal shrug. "Alright, I'll extend her an invitation." Chaolan gave another small smile, glad for this human side he was seeing to his brother again.

He was feeling on top of everything as he returned to his own office. He went to a large wooden shelving unit covering the far end of his office. It was mostly filled with neatly labelled binders, but just now he went to a cabinet door and unlocked it with a small key from his pocket. A neat array of different liquors sat on a silver tray. He hummed as he selected a London gin, then retrieved a can of tonic water from the mini fridge and cracked it open, pouring a liberal amount of each into a crystal glass.

"No lemon," he sighed to himself and sunk back into his office chair. He paused on seeing the unfinished letter at his desk. He supposed he ought to check Jun wanted to go before he gave an RSVP in with her name on it. He flicked open the personal phone book on his desk, thumbing through to _public officials and police._

"Hello?"

"You answer all your phonecalls like that, Officer Kazama?"

"Oh, no. I just… I've had some strange calls lately. What can I do for you, Mr Lee?"

"Well, I was rather hoping you might join myself and my charming brother for a formal function the Saturday after next."

There was a pause. Chaolan rolled his eyes. Really, how anyone ever managed to hook up without him running their love lives was a complete mystery to him.

"Does… Kazuya want me there?" So she was at least on first name bases with him now. About time.

"He would be delighted if you would accompany him."

"He didn't say that," she accused. She already knew him a little too well, Chaolan decided.

"He as good as did. Now, can I RSVP you as attending, or not?"

"Will your boyfriend be attending?"

"He will."

"And what kind of a thing is it? What do I have to do? What would people expect of me?"

"It's a ball. A dance. But no dancing is compulsory. It's mostly rich folks milling around talking, eating posh food, boring each other with stories of their own success."

"What's the event? I'm not going to any armaments or-"

"No no no, nothing like that. It's effectively for friends of the Prime Minister: lobbyists and benefactors who've given lots of cash to various causes. All very legal. Nothing untoward. Save the accumulation of wealth by the few. I imagine there might even be a few politicians who might be open to discussing animal welfare…"

"I wouldn't be going to lobby politicians, Mr Lee. I'd be going for Kazuya."

That took him aback. But also warmed him. A part of him was still very wary of Kazuya getting together with anyone involved in law enforcement. Kazama Jun didn't strike him as wilfully malicious, but it was good to hear by her own confession that she cared for his brother.

"Is that a yes then?"

She hesitated again,

"I'm not-… I wouldn't want to spoil anything by not acting in the right way. Maybe it's best if I didn't come…"

"Officer Kazama, you certainly won't be the only person present who's never attended such a function before. And I assure, the behaviour I'm most keen to see not disrupt the evening is not yours."

"… Kazuya?"

"He has a habit of speaking his mind, which as you know is rarely a fortuitous thing for the one on the receiving end. In a room full of pompous business men and politicians…" Another quiet. Chaolan sighed, "listen, he's just less of a dick when you're around. Can you please come?" He surprised himself with that. Very unprofessional. Not at all the charming front he'd been raised to present to every person he met.

"Alright," she said. "But what should I wear? Last time you said my funeral dress would be ok-"

"I did _not_ say that, I would just like to clarify."

"But, if it's a more formal occasion, I'm not sure if I have anything that I could wear."

"Right, what are you doing tomorrow morning?"

"Nothing. But-"

"I'll pick you up and we'll go and find something to wear. Can you give me a street address?" Another hesitation. His mind flicked through the possible reservations. She already wanted to go, so it was either the shopping suggestion that was the problem or… And suddenly it was very apparent to him what the difficulty might be. It was the same difficulty he'd had after all, when Mishima Heihachi had asked where he lived, all those years ago. He hadn't wanted to show the place he called home to someone as opulent and impressive as Mr Mishima. He'd only been seven years old at the time. But you're never too young to be ashamed of poverty. "Or perhaps we can meet at a nearby landmark?"

"Yes, that would work." She jumped on the suggestion. "Do you know the Shinagawa Aquarium?"

"Near the racecourse?"

"Yes. We could meet outside there."

"Excellent. Do you mind it being early? Say 9AM? I have some late morning appointments I have to be at the Zaibatsu for."

"That's fine. But, Mr Lee, you really don't have to go out of your way like this."

"Nonsense. I like shopping. And besides, my sense of style is impeccable." She laughed at that and he relaxed. "Now if there are no more objections, I will wish you an excellent evening, Officer Kazama."

"Same to you, Mr Lee."

He smiled as he put down the phone and finished off his letter. Then sat back and drank his gin and tonic as the sun set and filled the room up with the satisfying red glow of evening.

* * *

"I'm not sure about the lower bit. It's too restrictive. I can't move properly. I want something more flexible. My grandmother used to say, if you can't kick someone in it, you shouldn't wear it." Chaolan raised his eyebrows and put a hand over his mouth. "You're laughing at me," Jun said sullenly.

"I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing."

Jun felt silly. She was standing on a stool in a dress so long it went all the way to the floor and made her look like she was two feet taller than she was. There was something entrancing about trying on these beautiful clothes though. The material was all soft and the intricate folds, or fine embroidery, or curling lace, made her feel like all the world was looking at her.

"I don't want to draw attention," she said testily.

"Which is why I've picked out an understated, desaturated autumn palate for you, Officer."

"Please just call me Jun. I feel silly you calling me 'officer' whilst I'm dressed up like some cartoon princess." Chaolan laughed. "And nope – not that." She pointed at the next dress the fitting lady had brought out. "Too poofy. It goes out like a temple bell. None of that. And that one's too short. I don't want that either."

The next dress brought out was a pearl grey blue, with a white gauze hung about the shoulders and intricately embroidered with shell pink and white sakura blossoms. Jun hesitated and glanced at Chaolan. There was a canny look in his eye.

When she tried this dress on, it felt a lot less ridiculous than the rest. A light girdle about her waist finished off the look. It was simple with a quiet kind of elegance. She liked the flower motif, and the slim shape of the dress, though it still had artful pleats in the trim skirt.

"This one's okay…" she murmured. And turned on her stool, letting the thing fan out about her.

"Is it now?" Chaolan had an insufferable knowing tone to his voice.

"I don't mind the colours or the shape. It's quite pretty."

"As much praise I think a dress is going to get from Kazama Jun."

She scowled at him, but then returned to looking in the mirror, twirling slightly to see the pleats again.

Whilst the dress was being packaged up, she turned to him.

"How did you know I'd go for that one?"

He tapped his nose,

"An old little trick of mine. Kazuya never knows what he wants when he goes to buy a suit. I put a couple of suits that are clearly not right for him on the hook first, then my choice about third in line, and by the time he gets to it, he's short tempered and infinitely glad he's finally found something he likes. It never works if I just hand him my choice first and tell him he looks good in it."

"You're very conniving…"

"Thank you," he winked at her, "I try to make a habit of it."

They had a spare forty minutes before Chaolan had to leave, and spent it in a cafe above the clothing store.

"Thank you for the gift," Jun said after a little while. She held a green tea to her chest whilst Chaolan lazily drank a coffee with frothy milk and chocolate sprinkles.

"Not at all."

"You're good at picking out nice things," she said. She attempted to clarify when he raised an eyebrow. "I mean – it's not just about noticing some beautiful clothes, you seem to know what sort of thing someone feels comfortable in."

"Give someone the right outfit, and they can feel truly themselves. Outward expression isn't all just frivolity. There's an art to it." He smiled.

"I never thought of it like that," Jun admitted. "I don't mind wearing nice things sometimes, but usually I have to wear something practical for the climate, the season, the outdoors."

A strange, not entirely warm look flickered across Chaolan's face.

"Choice is a luxury. One ought never to look down upon what is done out of necessity. At the end of the day it's all just material. It'll rot with our bones when we're dead. No one will remember you wore a bespoke suit if you froze to death wearing an idiotic but aesthetically pleasing choice of outfit."

Jun looked at him. He glanced elsewhere and sipped his coffee. So far she'd always wondered how it could be true that Chaolan and Kazuya were raised as brothers. This small display was the first time she was ready to believe they'd grown up together. She remembered what Kazuya had said about Chaolan being grateful when he killed their father. There was a lot here that she didn't know and understand. At least with Kazuya, she felt like there was a blunt, cold, honesty to him. With Chaolan, she felt like the him she was communicating with was a tip of an iceberg. A very pleasant, easy to get on with iceberg – but the closer she stumbled to truths, the more enigmatic depths seemed to hide darker parts of him that he did not wish to be seen.

"There can be something beautiful in practicality too," she said at last. Content that that was a non-incendiary way to tacitly agree with him.

"Can there? Practicality is surviving. I don't see what's beautiful about that. It's the bare bones of existence. It's the only thing that really matters, but there's nothing beautiful about it. A dog that finds its first meal in four days in a gutter isn't beautiful. It's stubborn, but it isn't beautiful. It can only be beautiful if someone takes it home, adopts it, feeds it, raises it with a roof over its head and gives it all it needs. Then its coat becomes glossy, its fur soft. It has beauty, but only because it was gifted affluence."

His eyes were hard and distant. Jun had a very distinct feeling like he wasn't actually talking about dogs.

"There can be beautiful existence even in desperate situations, Mr Lee. There are many animals… and many people who live moment to moment with few worldly things to their name. That does not mean they are poor in spirit or beauty."

"None of that means anything next to hunger."

She nodded,

"I agree. Everyone needs sufficient. But we do not need excess to feel fulfilment."

"Fulfilment! _Hah._ No one's talking about _that_. There's no such thing, after all."

Jun's fingers curled tighter on her teacup.

Chaolan shook his head,

"I apologise. The coffee hasn't kicked in yet, I'm not usually this tedious for company. Not sure what came over me." He brushed his fingers through his hair, flipping it artfully out of his face, whilst trying to pull the smiles back over his disposition.

Jun watched him with a well of sadness that she was careful not to convey.

"Not at all," she said, keen to move the conversation on to places he would feel less irked by. She wasn't sure why, but she felt a pressure to impress and get on with Chaolan that she never did with Kazuya. "I'm the one who's always tedious with conversation. I think I might have spent over fifty percent of any given conversation with Kazuya talking about fish…"

"Really?" His eyes lit up at the opportunity to gossip about his brother.

"Yes…" she sighed. "Fish or whales… I didn't mean to, but then he didn't stop me and I got a bit carried away. And the next time wasn't my fault because _he_ brought up whales first. Although I did then get sidetracked talking about fish… and algae."

Chaolan laughed, and it was a genuine one of humour that Jun was glad she'd found in him.

"Kazuya doesn't know anything about fish. Unless it involves eating it. He's very particular about his sushi."

"Oh… well I was just telling him about irresponsible fishing, it wasn't even about sushi…" she pulled a pained expression. "I think I might be one of those people that just blurts their interests at others in an effort to socialise."

Chaolan laughed again,

"You're not. Trust me. I've met a lot of those before."

"Will it really be alright me going to this big formal event?"

His face became gentler,

"Of course. Jae-suk hasn't been to one before either. Kaz and I aren't going to abandon you to talk to boring businessmen alone."

"But I mean-… I… I don't know how-… What I mean is-…" Jun chewed her lip. Chaolan waited patiently for her to find the words. "Jae-suk is your boyfriend, right?" Chaolan nodded. "Well, all I mean is-… I don't know if-… I mean I'm not sure if…"

"He's inviting you in a capacity as a plus one, if that's what you're asking."

"And what exactly does that-…?"

Chaolan gave her a mild look of amusement.

"I think perhaps that's a discussion you ought to have with Kazuya."

Jun shook her head fiercely,

"We don't talk about things like that."

"No… You talk about fish."

"Fish and whales."

She joined in with Chaolan's laughter this time.

"Everything will be alright," he told her as he stood and collected his jacket. He handed over the box with her dress in it. "You're going to look stunning, and I can't think of anyone who makes Kazuya happier." He gave her a smile and his eyes were warm and gentle. "See you next week."

Jun took the box and held it to her. Chaolan's words filled her with a quiet confidence. When he was gone, she cracked open the cardboard lid so that she could get one more look at the beautiful material, and touch the soft muslin and fragile silk of the floral embroidery.

* * *

**Author Note: **cute chick-flick style dress buying scene inevitably became Dostoyevskian rumination on beauty and poverty. I'm sorry. I've only seen about one chick flic in my life and I was teaching a class on Brothers Karamazov when I wrote this chapter. Also I'm not that sorry, because Lee always strikes me as someone who's as dark and damaged as Kaz once you get through the layers of dazzling drama.

I spent a while choosing a dress for Jun. A link to the one I chose is on archive of our own and my twitter (erenaeoth).

Thanks again for the reviews! Especially Tifanny91 and Thalie XVII on fanfic dot net and Eulerami on Ao3. I'm glad there is anger felt on Jun's behalf towards Tanji. I like the idea of trying to show that the world isn't such an easy place to navigate once you throw away your job for someone like Kazuya Mishima. And especially not when you get on the wrong side of people who potentially have quite a lot of power to ruin your life!

Next week's chapter is absolutely massive, I dont know why. I tried to cut it in half but it didn't flow right, so you have 10k word chapter next week.


	10. A Hunger for Vengeance

The week had not been easy.

On Monday, Jun had decided that she couldn't afford to wait for the right kind of job to drop into her lap and had gone around handing her resume into every store and shopfront with a hiring sign. Before she'd got very far, she'd noticed a police officer in uniform – no one she knew – following her.

After her initial concern, curiosity got the better of her. The officer would go into every store she'd been into, spend less than a minute inside, then come back out and proceed to follow her to the next location. Jun circled round and went back into the same store she'd already been in. The staff there immediately became agitated and quickly folded over a piece of paper, but not before Jun had glimpsed the large photograph of her own face on the thing. She was left feeling embaressed and also like she was the one in the wrong. The store staff gave her wide berth and a look somewhere between disgust and fear.

Jun decided she had three options. She either had to confront someone in her old precinct about this, leave town, or become more covert in her attempt at job searching. Probably against her better judgement, she opted for the latter. She had no desire to start stirring up trouble with the police, and really, she wasn't sure they'd see her side of the story at all, especially now that she actually _was_ (was she?) dating Mishima Kazuya. That also covered why she couldn't choose the second option.

When Jun left the house on Tuesday, she took a metro in one direction, then changed line and took it back in the opposite direction. She managed to get half way through the morning before she noticed her police tail had found her. The familiar blue shirt and peaked cap uniform slid into a reflection in a shop window on the opposite side of the street. Her lip quivered. She squared her shoulders and walked straight up to uniformed officer.

"Are you following me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She tried not to let the man's brazen attitude phase her.

"By what right and under what law?"

"On account of you being a suspicious person, ma'am. I've been instructed to notify the general public of the possible threat you pose."

"And what threat is that?" She folded her arms. The man's emotions gave away no ulterior malicious motive, but that only made the whole affair more distressing to her.

"Afraid I can't tell you that, ma'am."

"You _can_ tell me. I have a right to know what I'm considered to be suspicious of, especially when it's hindering my ability to get a job!"

The officer scratched his head. He pulled a number of sheets of folded paper out of his back pocket. He licked his finger and flicked through a few corners until he found the page he was looking for.

"Kazama Jun?"

"That's right." She tried to sound defiant, but mostly it was just upsetting to hear that the police officer knew her by name.

"Hmm… Undermining official police investigations, professional misconduct, suspicion of involvement with organised crime. I'm under orders to let civilians who may be at risk, know of the open investigation against you."

Jun held her head high and tried to gather calm to herself, but peace and the stillness of forests, and the rhythmic crash of ocean waves on the jetty, and the silence of old mountains were so very far away.

"Who has an investigation open against me?"

"I'm not at liberty to say, ma'am."

"Well, can you tell me who I ought to contact to file a complaint?"

"I couldn't say, ma'am."

"Can you show me what you're handing to all the places I'm trying to get a job at?"

"No, ma'am, that's confidential."

Jun had gone home after that and sat on the floor of her apartment chewing her lip and turning her emptying credit card round and round between her fingers. The fridge had been bare since the day before and she'd taken to sitting in the dark since the last electricity bill had come through. When she went down to the supermarket that evening, she was careful with what she chose, and had to forgo her usual fresh vegetable choices to stock up on rice. She thought of the mountains in Yakushima and how as a girl she would go out early in the morning and pick wild tubers and roots, and chards and cabbage, and fresh herbs, and how if you knew where to look and how to prepare it, the mountain always had meal to give that was full of flavour and good for the soul. Instead she made sticky rice balls and filled them with little fried mushrooms, and wrapped them up in cling film and set them in the fridge for the next day.

On Wednesday, Jun decided against using public transport. She left her block at odd times throughout the day and in different outfits to throw off anyone tailing her. On Wednesday afternoon, she was delighted to get a phonecall back from a drycleaners about forty minutes walk away, asking if she could start the next day.

On Thursday, Jun worked her first full day in weeks. It was labour intensive and she was on her feet from eight until five folding clothes, and moving them from ironed piled to coat hangers, to presses, to washing machines, to dryers, but she came home feeling pleased and confident and like she'd finally moved on from the iron grip of the police department.

On Friday, Jun reached her work at 7:45 AM as she had the day before, only to see a police officer standing just inside the laundrette, his face visible through the part-steamed up glass and above the sign still reading 'closed'. Both the officer and her the manager glanced up as she walked in. The manager shook his head. Jun went home after that, without even receiving pay for the day's work yesterday. As she sat alone in the dark eating plain rice that evening, she looked at the shiny card box with the dress in that Lee Chaolan had bought for her. She remembered his words: _n__one of that means anything next to hunger._ She rested her head in her hand and looked out at the city lights shining bright in the lonely dark.

Saturday was the first day that she was hungry. Not properly hungry – just a dull ache that was made worse by the knowledge she didn't plan to relieve it. She kept daydreaming of the ball she was going to this evening. Last week she'd been thinking of the beautiful dress and seeing Kazuya again, but today she just kept thinking of the abundance of food there would be at the event.

She was ready in an instant when the phone rang on its hook. It was Chaolan informing her that there'd be a limousine waiting for her outside the aquarium and that it would bring her to his apartment where she could change and join them to make their way together to the ball.

As she walked the darkening streets with her box clutched to her chest, she wondered whether the police would still be tailing her. She wondered if they'd write down in their notebooks when she got into a fancy car. She wondered if they'd put that in their evidence section for 'professional misconduct' or 'suspicion of ties to organised crime'.

The night was hot and dry and the neon was bright. Car headlights swept past as she walked up the main road. She stepped closer to the shadows as she passed loud groups of youths enjoying their Saturday night. She wondered if Lei Wulong had cracked his case yet, or if the police force had succeeded in sending him back to Hong Kong. She wondered if the fireflies would be out among the reeds at the river that ran through the bottom of her family's garden.

The aquarium was shut, so she stood under its large archway alone and waiting. When the limousine pulled up, she found herself tired and relieved, and forgot to find it strange that an expensive car had come all the way here just for her. She sat in the back on her own and stared dully at the leather seats opposite her. She hugged her stomach when it grumbled.

She was met at the base of a hexagonal tower block so high it's upper echelons were lost to the night. Bruce Irvin nodded at her and indicated that she should follow him. He was dressed in a tuxedo, though with an ever present handgun still on his hip. Jun found herself thinking of Wulong's warning about this man. She wondered what the name of the person Bruce had murdered was.

Chaolan's apartment was everything she'd expected and more. It occupied the top three floors of the tower block, including the roof. As soon as she stepped in, she wanted to go home. Not home to the narrow flat she'd come from, home to Yakushima. She stood awkwardly just inside the door, eyes moving over the glamour, refined taste, and lavish expense. She almost missed Kazuya, standing in a dark suit in a dark corner before dark windows, rich amber whiskey glinting in a crystal glass in his hand. She stood, watching him, and wondering what she was doing here.

Kazuya looked up and the hard lines of his usual frown softened a little. He set down his glass and walked to her. He wore a long black coat over mauve-blue, pressed suit finished with a red tie.

"I didn't hear you arrive." He extended a hand. Jun wasn't sure what to do with it. She tentatively placed hers in it. His hand was much larger than hers. It enveloped hers very gently. He raised it to his lips and kissed her knuckle. Hunger and jobs and police and loneliness and bills fled from her mind and her eyes opened wide. He was looking at her with that intense stare full of unspoken desires. She found her breath had stopped in her throat and her heart was hammering. He lowered her hand, then gave her a curious expression. She was still gripping firmly onto his fingers, she realised. She blushed furiously and hastily loosened her grip. He didn't pull his hand away though, instead allowing the contact to remain. "Can I get you anything?" There were a good many things she wanted, but nothing more so just now than to feel the rough texture of his palm against her fingers. She shook her head. "Nothing at all?" he asked, and this time the way he was looking at her was subtly different. She took a step closer. He was tall, she realised. Why hadn't she noticed that before? She moved trance-like until she was only a few inches from him. She hadn't been this close before. "May I take that for you?" He offered his other hand. She gave him the dress box, and he set it down on a glossy bureau surface behind him. He made a subtle movement with his hand and drew her closer. He looked down at her. His eyes were so dark they were almost black. "How have you been?" he asked, voice barely above a breath.

"Better for being here," she returned, equally quiet. She didn't want to talk about all the things that had been hurting her. She just wanted to be held in suspended animation in Kazuya's gaze, whilst the rest of the world washed up against this untouchable island of safety. He touched a finger to her chin. She could feel the callouses on it – kobudo callouses – a martial artist's callouses. The scar across his face was cut deep into his skin, but stretched, as if he'd had it a long time and it had been pulled taught as he aged. She wondered how old he'd been when he got it. Then she was looking as his lips, and wondering if his lips would feel as soft against hers as they had against the back of her hand.

There was a clatter of noise from elsewhere in the apartment followed by laughter and a door slamming. A young man with sunglasses pushed up into mussed up red hair, stumbled into view. He wore an oversized hoodie that was soaked and there was water running down his face.

Kazuya and Jun took a step apart.

"Sorry." The young man gave an apologetic grin and wiped a hand across his face. "Your brother just tried to pulled me into the shower with all my clothes on."

"I did not need to know that," Kazuya said testily. He walked back to his whiskey glass and sipped from it.

The young man wiped his hand on baggy tracksuit bottoms and slouched over to Jun. He bowed to her and offered her a hand.

"Hey! I'm Shin Jae-suk. You must be Kazama Jun. I've been looking forward to meeting you for ages."

Jun shook his hand, a little surprised. She glanced back at Kazuya. Exactly who had he been telling about her and what had he been saying? On second thoughts, she supposed this was more likely Chaolan's doing, in which case rumours of all sorts might abound.

"Pleased to meet you, I've heard lots about you too, Mr Shin."

"Jae-suk," he corrected. "Chaolan says it's personal names only where family are involved." He bounced back toward the bedroom door. "I'll be out in just a little. There's a spare bedroom you can use to change in if you wish. And a second bathroom just over on the right." He threw his finger out behind him to indicate as he vanished back through the door.

Jun stood rooted to the spot with embarrassment. _Family? _She wasn't sure what to do. She desperately didn't want to turn around and let Kazuya see just how red her face was right now.

"He's a little eccentric, but he makes my brother happy."

Jun folded her arms self-consciously.

"So I see."

"You're sure I can't get you anything? There's iced tea in the refrigerator."

"No, thank-you. I am a little hungry, but Chaolan said there'd be food at this place, so perhaps I should wait."

Kazuya strode across the room and vanished into a kitchen. Jun was left alone to look around the enormous apartment. It sported a spiral staircase up to the floor above, where Jun could see more high ceilings and soft lighting. She wandered to the window and looked down on the city far below. It looked so classy and colourful from up here. It didn't at all look like the sort of place one might waste away to nothing in. Up here you couldn't see individual people, nor shop fronts with their hiring signs, nor police officers with their pale blue shirts and boots that clacked up the pavement – a uniform issue across the city that Jun could now pick out from fifty paces away by sound alone.

Kazuya came back with a bowl of rice crackers and wasabi peas and nuts wrapped in bright coloured sticky rice. Jun's eyes lit at the sight and she thanked him as she took the bowl. She picked at it carefully, trying not to let on how hungry she was. She felt Kazuya's eyes on her.

"I skipped lunch," she explained. When she'd finished the bowl she tentatively set it on an expensive coffee table. She collected her dress box and held it to her. "I'm going to get changed." Kazuya nodded and gestured to the spare bedroom Jae-suk had pointed out earlier.

As Jun stepped into the room, the lighting faded on. It revealed a spacious bedroom, fitted with a western-style bed covered in an enormous poofy duvet and a velveteen throw. Tall black windows again opened onto a cityscape at the far side of the room. A dresser was to her left – an old Chinese build with enamel pearl inlay and goldleaf paintwork on varnished black wood. She reached a hand out and touched it reverently. Beyond it was a large mirror. In the mirror was a small young woman, with dark flyaway hair to her shoulders, and uncertainty in her eyes, and shadows under them and in her cheeks. Jun took a breath. She opened the cardboard box and drew out the dress. It moved like soft water in her hands, fluid and the colour of dawn clouds. She slipped out of her other clothes, and felt the cooled apartment air, feather-light on her skin. She slid into the gown, straightening it down her. She reached and zipped up the back a little. The angle evaded her for the rest of it however. She went to the door and opened it a crack, poking her head through.

"Chaolan?"

Kazuya appeared before her.

"He always takes forever to get ready. Anything I can help with?"

Jun hesitated. She looked at Kazuya. There was a long pause, then she nodded slowly and opened the door a little more.

He came in and closed it behind him. He stood looking at her. Jun could feel a blush in her cheeks. She turned her back to him.

"Please could you do up the zip?"

He stepped up close. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck. He gathered her hair out of the way and she tried not to shiver at the touch. His fingertips ghosted over her skin. He drew the zip up slowly. She swallowed as it moved up over each ridge of her spine. She could feel the faint touch of his fingers against her. When the dress was done up, he let his hands fall with a slow reluctance. Jun swallowed again. She turned around. He was very close. Closer even than earlier. She looked up into his eyes. They had that fire and intensity in them again, more fierce than she'd ever seen them before. But the aura about her bore no trace of his usual anger. There were other things there, all confused and swirling. There was a kind of hunger in his expression, but he remained very still and very quiet. She could see his nostrils moving, betraying that she wasn't the only one who's breath was coming a little shorter. He was waiting, she realised. And all the fluttering concern and hesitations in her chest were softened by that. She leaned in and placed her lips against his. For a half second there was no response. Then she felt him move, pressing his lips firmly against hers with an urgency. He hesitantly placed hands on her shoulders and she let herself be drawn closer, until she was against his chest, and could feel the pound of his heartbeat against her body. She closed her eyes and pushed back into the kiss, feeling his surprise as she returned with her own strength, parting his lips with hers and pressing a tongue into his mouth. He pulled her in tight and she felt his emotions turn in a whirling cavalcade about them, aggressive, possessive things warred with careful uncertainties. She could feel his hands quivering, releasing his grip a little, as though he were afraid of his own desires.

She pulled back a fraction but remained close, her words a breath on his lips.

"It's alright," she said softly. He was unsure. She reached up and stroked a hand back through his hair. His eyelids fluttered shut.

"I don't want… to lose control."

"It's alright," she said again.

"Sometimes, I-… I don't know what happens to me. Something takes over."

"It's alright. I know."

"A darkness…"

"I know."

"Something not human."

"I know."

"How could you-?"

"All this hate couldn't belong to one man. Certainly not a man like you. With so much care inside him."

"That's not-… I'm not…"

"You are." She placed a finger on his lips. "We will talk of darkness another time. For now, let us just share a little light." She pressed another gentle kiss to his lips, more chaste than before, so as not to stir up those fiery emotions in him again. His eyes softened. He drew out of the kiss a few moments later and rested his cheek against the top of her head and wrapped his arms around her and said nothing. She stretched her arms as far as she could around his back and closed her eyes and let out a long, heavy sigh. She turned her face into his chest and for the first time since leaving Yakushima Island, felt that peace that comes from being home.

"The dress looks nice." His voice was quiet and muffled into her hair, devoid of its usual gravity.

"So does your suit." Though it was probably crumpling a bit with the way she was pushing her face into it.

"Did Chaolan choose it?"

"Yes. Did he choose yours?"

"Of course."

They pulled back a little to share a smile.

"Jun?" They heard Chaolan's voice call through the apartment. Kazuya gave a sigh and a slight frown crept back onto his brow. Jun gave him another smile, a knowing one this time. "Kazama?!" Chaolan's voice rang out again, this time more urgently. There were hurried footsteps around the apartment. "Kazama!" The call came again. Chaolan said something snappish to Jae-suk, who sounded apologetic in return. The bedroom door burst open. Kazuya and Jun took a step apart. Chaolan stood in the doorway. He was dressed in a white suit with a silver brocade waistcoat and lilac tie, radiant as ever, but his face was a black scowl as he glared at Kazuya. Jun blinked when she realised the tumultuous emotions curling in the room were his – concern and fear being replaced by a slow mixture of anger and relief.

Kazuya gave him a sullen look in response and slowly walked past his brother through the open door.

"Always got to choose your moments, don't you," he said as he passed.

Chaolan glanced away, glaring off into a corner as Kazuya stalked by him. He only turned back to Jun when Kazuya was gone.

"The dress looks perfect," he said, smiling as best he could. He was still a mess of emotions. Jun did her best to receive the compliment and to pretend she didn't know he'd been frightened for her safety. It was one thing to receive a polite warning from him over the phone, and quite another to see his genuine, tangible fear.

Half an hour later all four of them were sitting in a limousine. Kazuya and Chaolan weren't talking, which would have made the whole atmosphere very difficult were Jae-suk not happy to fill in the silence.

"No, no, it's not too far to come," he was saying to Jun, "only about two hours on the plane. Some people commute into work longer than that!" He was enthusiastic but not unobservant, buoyant but not wrapped in ego and facade like the people Jun had got used to meeting at the Zaibatsu. He had bright, intelligent eyes that made contact whenever he spoke, and he listened with his whole body whenever he was being addressed. "And I usually stay for the whole weekend if I can. At the moment, it's every other weekend, but I'm hoping to come every week when the summer's over. Always more gigs and rehearsals during the summer. I'd like to have Chaolan over to Seoul, but I know Mr Mish- Kazuya needs him here in Tokyo." Neither Kazuya nor Chaolan said anything to that.

"He does seem to have an indispensable role in the Zaibatsu," Jun said carefully. Jae-suk sighed and looked down. "So, you're in a band, is that right?"

Jae-suk nodded. He reached up to adjust a hat that wasn't there, then brought his hand back slowly, betraying a little of his apprehension. He was looking slightly out of place in his all-black suit and shirt, but toyed with a large gold chain he'd been allowed to still wear.

"Yeah, we're called _N__aeil __U__lda_. You won't know us, we've barely played anywhere outside of Seoul."

"And what do you play in the band?" He gave her an amused grin that made Jun feel old and behind on culture, despite the fact they were probably the same age.

"Uh… bit of DJ-ing, some b-boying, tiny bit of rap."

Jun nodded. He raised he eyebrows slightly. She gave an apologetic grimace.

"Um, I've heard of rap?"

"Cool cool," he said, happy to share his interests, "so DJ-ing is mostly using turntables with different tracks on and I drop them into each other, making something new, adding some new noises, and the boys rap over the top. And b-boying is just dance. Don't worry on the terms, it's all borrowed from the US – the words of course not the music." He winked.

Jun didn't really know what he was talking about, but he was genial and kind as he said it.

"Dancing? So will you do some dancing tonight at the ball?"

"No," Kazuya and Chaolan said in unison, then glanced out their respective windows.

Jae-suk gave her another wink,

"Think that just about answers that."

Jun frowned.

"Is it a different kind of dance to what's expected this evening?"

"Very much so," he replied. "Far too street for the Prime Minister of Japan." He laughed at that and Jun's eyes widened.

"Is the Prime Minister really going to be there?"

"Huh, if he is, are you going to ask him about animal welfare? Chaolan says you're environment officer. Sorry, I don't know the right term, I'm still learning the language."

"I'm… not planning on talking to anyone about animal welfare tonight…" Jun glanced at Kazuya, but he was still staring pointedly out the window.

"Too bad. If I met the Prime Minister of South Korea, I'd telling him just what I thought of him."

Kazuya gave a loud irritated sigh, folded his arms, and tapped his fingers. Chaolan glared at Kazuya. Jae-suk glanced apprehensively between them. He fell quiet after that and they drove the rest of the way in silence.

Jun hadn't quite calculated what she was getting into until the limousine pulled up in front of a government building, with grandiose arches on each level, all lit with soft, suave lighting that made the whole building glow. She was hesitant getting out the car, and felt small and out of place again.

"It could be worse," Jae-suk whispered in her ear, "imagine you're doing this in a foreign country, with a language you're not all that comfortable with."

She gave an apologetic almost laugh at that, and was infinitely glad he was with them. Kazuya and Chaolan looked like they'd been doing this all their lives.

"No fights this year, please, Kazuya," Chaolan said in an ostensibly light but stiff tone.

"Don't give me cause to start one with you then," came the instant reply.

Jae-suk rolled his eyes at Jun.

Jun fell into step with Kazuya as they walked toward the building. She glanced behind and noticed two black suzukis had pulled up on either side of the limousine. Zaibatsu guards were flanking them at a discreet distance. Jun looked up at Kazuya. He was fixing her with one of those unreadable stares. She couldn't get a read on his emotions, or perhaps that was because her own were such a mess. She was still hungry too and her concentration was on edge. She wondered if he was regretting that kiss.

"Relax," he said to her, quietly so that the others couldn't hear. "Nothing is expected of you. You may do as you please. No one will bother you, no one will ask anything of you." She supposed that was his idea of a welcome break, but to her it did more to reinforce the uncomfortable feeling that she was entering an environment entirely shaped by him and the fear people felt of him.

"There better be a buffet like I was promised, or I'm going to drive one of you many edgy black cars all the way back to Shinagawa."

Kazuya smirked.

"Didn't know you could drive, Officer?"

"Try living on an island with no trains and a bus that only goes twice a day without learning how to drive."

"Ah, so it's an aesthetic choice not to drive in Tokyo then."

"Yes, everything in my life is done on pure aesthetics alone, Mr Mishima. My entire line of work was chosen because I particularly love walking around in stiff khaki uniforms."

"Is that sarcasm, Officer? Because I rather liked that uniform."

She blushed furiously and glared at him. He gave a sly smirk. She could feel his mood lightening. It made her heart skip when she realised that was for her.

They were greeted personally at the door and shown into an enormous auditorium with a ceiling lost to domes and rafters, and full chandeliers hung on brass chains. Jun craned her neck to look up at the splendour. As she did, she noticed that Jae-suk was doing the same. Then something blinded her – a white light close to her eyes. She shaded her vision and ducked her head. There were another series of flashes and shutters whirring. She felt a hand on her back steer her away into darkness. She regained her vision to find herself pressed close to Kazuya whilst he snarled at some fast retreating paparazzi. She blinked repeatedly and looked up at him, a little stunned.

"You're fine," he said once they'd gone, and touched his finger briefly to her chin. That gesture was enough to chase most of her shock away.

"I didn't know there'd be press…"

Kazuya hesitated, she could feel something disturb his emotions.

"I assumed when you said you'd come to this that…" He paused to choose his words carefully. "I assumed you'd know this was a public appearance. If you're not alright appearing next to-"

"I am." She slid her hand into his. It was his turn to blink in surprise. His feelings settled a little though. She looked into his eyes. Every time any of this felt like too much, she only had to look there to find the strength to weather one more thing.

"Let us go and find your buffet."

"Don't you have to…" She waved a hand vaguely, "… mingle?"

He gave her a mild look, back to his usual precocious self.

"I don't have to do anything. Comes with being the CEO of the Mishima Zaibatsu. I do as I please."

There was something testy in his voice as well as playful. Something that hinted that this hadn't always been so. Something that hinted that this was a hard won privilege.

Jun could hear her stomach grumbling as they wound their way through the crowded room. Everyone about her was smartly dressed. They looked like they hadn't had to buy their posh clothes only last week.

Her face fell when she saw the buffet. It was a long ornate affair filled with sumptuous dishes, all unlabelled, and none of which Jun could recognise at a glance. She was so hungry. She bit her lip slightly. Her heart was beating fast. This wasn't a problem. The diet she chose was just a luxury. It didn't matter if she broke it. It didn't matter except that she didn't want to. She looked about for a plate, or to see what other people were doing.

"Hey." Kazuya was at her shoulder. She didn't look at him. She knew if she did he'd see she was panicking. She didn't wish to seem ungrateful. She reached out a hand towards a platter laden with food. He nudged it with his own towards another. "They always make those with salmon. Try this." She released a shaky breath and turned, resting her forehead against his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head briefly. "I'm not going anywhere," he murmured. "You don't have to worry about anything." She gave a fractional nod.

With Kazuya's help she piled a plate as high as she dared and then ate hungrily. He picked vaguely at a couple of crepes whilst surveying the room through his customary dark frown. They were shortly joined by Chaolan and Jae-suk who'd found a glass of wine and a beer respectively and were getting through them almost as fast as Jun was her food.

Kazuya ignored them as they approached, eyes still sweeping the room.

"Kaz, did you not even get Jun a drink?"

"She doesn't drink."

"What, not even water?" Chaolan gave his brother a cold look, then gave Jun a brilliant smile. "Can I get you anything, my dear?"

Jun shook her head quickly,

"No, thank-you."

Jae-suk twitched the collar of his shirt irritably and tried to loosen his tie with a finger. He stopped when Kazuya's eyes rested on him, instead hastily taking another sip of his beer.

"Who's DJ-ing this joint, someone's grandma? No one's listened to music like this in at least sixty years."

"Politicians playlist," Chaolan supplied, "has to be very carefully tailored. No sensitive topics or mature themes."

"Shoot me if I ever make it into a playlist like this."

"I thought your music wasn't politically sensitive." Kazuya fixed Jae-suk with a look that was just a fraction sharp.

"It… it isn't, Mr Mishima. I mean it isn't much, I mean. I just-"

"Kaz is just messing with you." Chaolan glared at Kazuya, as if daring him to say otherwise.

Kazuya raised one eyebrow then turned away again.

"The Prime Minister is here," he announced. Jun and Jae-suk craned their heads to see. "Let us go and speak with him."

Jun nearly choked.

"S-… _speak_ with him? Why?"

"Kazuya likes the Prime Minister," Chaolan said dryly, "or at least he likes the fact that he holds power and has 6th dan in Kendo."

"It's important to be able to defend one's words with one's fists."

"Helps that he doesn't mind taking your money either."

Jun's eyes widened.

"Careful, Chaolan. We're in public. What did I tell you about Zaibatsu secrets, your head, and the nearest window?" Kazuya didn't seem too bothered by the accusation. He did fold his arms when he caught Jun staring at him though. "It's widely known secret, if you're concerned. The police commissioner knows about it."

"The _police_ know?" Jun couldn't keep the repulsion from her voice.

"They take the biggest paychecks of all," Chaolan put in, and leaned over the buffet to scoop up a clump of caviar with a bruschetta stick. Jae-suk shook his head as he watched him. "What? I like this. Better I eat it, than some under appreciative cabinet minister who's just eating it to look good."

"Chaolan, I love you, but I was shaking my head at the corruption and bribery, not at you eating caviar. And I can't believe I actually had to say that sentence out loud."

Chaolan had the grace to grimace.

"Come with me," Kazuya said to Jun. She looked at him warily, then nodded. He received a glass of wine from a waiter as he walked. Jun had to refuse three offers. "Just take one and hold it. It'll stop them pestering. And it makes people feel more comfortable. If they think you're drinking, they think you're relaxed. Sets them at ease. Would have thought your old friend Agent Lei would have told you as much."

Jun reluctantly did as he suggested, and held a large glass of red wine to her.

"You never used to call him 'agent' to his face."

"I only remember to be polite to people I give a damn about."

"Must be a small list."

He gave her a sideways smirk. The crowds parted before them and suddenly they were standing before the Prime Minister and a bodyguard.

"Mishima Kazuya!" The man exclaimed, and Jun noted that he bowed first, and Kazuya second. "I'm so glad you could make it." The Prime Minister was a clean shaven man with trim, neatly combed hair. He had a quiet manner about him that was relaxed, whilst also retaining an edge that was stern and astute. "It is always a pleasure to have you attend." He turned to Jun, "I don't believe we've met."

Jun bowed low.

"This is Kazama Jun." Kazuya introduced, though he said nothing more, leaving Jun feeling a little unsure of herself.

"Very pleased to meet you, Mr Prime Minister."

The Prime Minister inclined his head to her, then turned back to Kazuya.

"And how are the affairs of your corporation, Mr Mishima? Still selling weapons to the nation's enemies?"

Kazuya gave a thin smile,

"Of course not. The Mishima Zaibatsu really has very little to do with weapons manufacture, apart from those I provide you, of course. The new direction of the Zaibatsu is…" He paused and raised his wine glass to his lips. He sipped. "… Education."

"Education?" The prime minister raised his eyebrows. "And what exactly has your company done to invest in education?"

"We've… built a school."

"Have you now," the prime minister sounded unconvinced. "I'd be delighted to have a tour of it some time. Now, there was a personal matter I was hoping to speak with you about, Mr Mishima, is now a good time, or shall we catch up later?"

Jun felt her cheeks colour. She touched Kazuya's elbow,

"I remembered I need to ask Chaolan a favour." Kazuya frowned, but Jun bowed to them both and quickly extracted herself from the conversation. She really didn't want to hear all the ways in which her country was much more corrupt than she'd even realised. She meandered back to where she'd left Chaolan and Jae-suk at the buffet, but they'd gone. She picked at food that she'd remembered was meat free, and held her wine glass awkwardly as she did.

"Not a red wine fan?" A man next to her asked, nodding to the full glass.

"Oh…" Jun looked at it. "Not really."

"Only thing worth drinking here is the beer." A cigarette hung out one corner of his mouth. He had a suave, ruffled, windswept look that didn't quite belong to the level of propriety maintained by the rest of the auditorium. He dug his hands deep into a casual suit jacket, his shirt collar was slightly askew, giving a glimpse of a curling tattoo on his chest. He had an easy smile.

"I'm not too partial to that either," she gave, vaguely looking in Kazuya's direction to see when he might be done.

"Fair enough." He leaned on the buffet table and took a long drag on his cigarette, eyes staying on her. "What is with this music?"

She shrugged,

"Apparently it's not meant to offend."

"And yet it's offending my ear drums all the same."

She laughed. He grinned back. His grin slowly slid off as Chaolan and Jae-suk materialised from out of the crowd.

"Mr Lee, just the man I didn't want to see." He put out his cigarette in a gravy boat. "I'm going to get round your tariffs, by the way. Don't think we're going down without a fight."

Chaolan gave the man cold smile.

"You were just leaving, right?" Chaolan said to the stranger. There was something threatening lingering in his eyes as Chaolan spoke.

The man flipped a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on. He saluted to Jun, then shouldered roughly passed Chaolan and moved off into the crowd. Chaolan turned his attention back to Jun.

"Getting cosy with the Yakuza, Kazama?"

Jun's mouth dropped.

"Wait, he's with-…? I didn't-"

"Kazuya run off and leave you?"

"No,… I think the Prime Minister wanted to speak with him alone so I just…"

"Well, be careful who you choose to speak to. One wayward photo with the wrong person, and it can put one in a very awkward situation."

"I didn't know," Jun said miserably.

"He's kinda cute, though," Jae-suk put in, looking back over his shoulder. Jun and Chaolan both looked at him sharply. He threw his hands up. "I'm just saying what we're all thinking!" Jae-suk knocked back some more of his beer. "Fits your bad boy type, Jun."

Jun had to put her wine glass down before she spilt it over her new dress.

"I'm sorry, my what?"

Chaolan turned away slightly but not before Jun had seen the wry smile on his lips.

"Your bad boy type," Jae-suk said shamelessly. "Mr Mishima's very handsome and all, but he scares the shit out of me."

"I…" Jun could feel herself blushing. She shut her open mouth, not sure what to say.

"Make sure he doesn't hear that." Chaolan seemed amused by the turn of the conversation.

"I think he already knows he's frightening."

"The handsome part, my satsuma." Chaolan sipped his drink.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Jae-suk looked disturbed even by the idea.

"Can we stop talking about how handsome Kazuya is?" Jun said, just a little irritably. This time Chaolan's face cracked into a stifled laugh. Jae-suk gave her a wicked grin.

"You blush very easily," he told her.

"Well, you're talking about… very personal things!"

"It's okay to admit you like him, you know. You're out with him as a couple in public," Jae-suk pointed out.

"Let her be," Chaolan chastised gently, nudging his nose into his boyfriend's hair.

"Alright, alright." Jae-suk leaned into Chaolan's touch. He turned his head back to Jun though. "But you shouldn't be ashamed to be happy. Don't let other people dictate how you want to live and who you want to be with. Life's too short for that."

"Right," Chaolan plucked Jae-suk's beer bottle from his hand. "Only two and you're already philosophising. You're such a lightweight." Jae-suk grinned at him and flopped against his shoulder.

"There's no crime in philosophising, you should try it some time. Thanks for taking that, it was empty. Reminds me I need a new one." He pecked Chaolan on the cheek and ducked into the crowd.

Chaolan sighed.

"You doing alright?" he asked Jun.

"Me? Yes. Of course." She glanced Kazuya's way, but the crowds had shifted and she couldn't see him. Her heart sunk a little. She looked back at Chaolan. "Do you really do dealings with the Yakuza and bribe the Prime Minister and the police?"

Chaolan's eyebrows raised again.

"Who's asking?"

Jun started,

"I'm not with the police any more if that's-"

"Kazuya said you quit the case. That's a big move to make just for my dumb brother."

"I hardly think I'm the only one who makes sacrifices for Kazuya."

He frowned,

"That's different. It's always been him and me. We have to look out for each other. Always have done."

"And does he?"

"Does he what?"

"Look out for you."

Chaolan's eyes darkened.

"He used to. It was a mutual arrangement, but there's still a lot I'm indebted to him for."

She glanced around them, then whispered,

"Like your father?"

Chaolan put a hand to his forehead. He closed his eyes and was silent for a moment.

"How much has he fucking told you?"

Jun folded her arms.

"Is that death what's weighing on him? Is that why he has these… episodes of darkness as he calls them?"

"That death is weighing on no one," Chaolan hissed, then looked about them. "We can't talk about this now. But trust me when I say that no one regrets a little less of Mishima Heihachi in the world. Not me, and certainly not Kazuya." Chaolan pulled his shoulders back. "The fact you even had to ask says there's a lot he still hasn't told you."

"What happened when he was five?"

Chaolan glanced fearfully over his shoulder in the direction Kazuya had last been visible. He shook his head vigorously.

"Be careful, Jun. That's all I'm going to say. Now cut this talk." His eyes were sharp. He set Jae-suk's empty beer bottle down. "This isn't the time for that kind of-…" He trailed off. Jun followed his gaze. The crowds had parted a little and between the flowing skirts and smart suits, the drinks bar had come into view. Jae-suk was standing at the bar, chatting animatedly with a young man with bleach blond hair pulled into a pony tail. The young man wore a white fur scarf about his neck and was dressed in a scarlet haori and cream hakama. There was something very familiar about him. Jun turned to Chaolan. His face had gone pale. "Takumi's here."

Jun frowned, still not quite on the same page. She looked back at the bar. The blond man had a languid grace to him, and moved easily about high society in a way that made Jae-suk look all shuffling angles.

"Kato Takumi?" she asked, her eyes widening as recollections of questioning Chaolan's ex-boyfriend jumped to mind.

Chaolan nodded dumbly. They both watched as Jae-suk and Takumi laughed lightly at the bar. Takumi ordered them both drinks and they clinked glasses. When Jae-suk finally headed back in their direction, Chaolan caught him by the shoulder and steered him aside. He kept his face averted from the crowd, which Jun thought a rather pointless attempt given that his silver hair made him stick out a mile at any event.

"That guy at the bar," Chaolan's voice was urgent, "what did he say to you?"

Jae-suk rolled his eyes.

"Chaolan…" he said reproachfully.

"I'm serious. What did he say?"

Jun was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"Stop acting like an ass." Jae-suk made to sip his drink, but Chaolan took it from his hands.

"Stop drinking and talk to me. I'm not asking because I'm jealous. I'm asking because…" Chaolan hesitated. He glanced back towards the bar. The white fur was still visible.

"What, seriously? Him?" Jae-suk leaned back on a pillar and blew his fringe out of his eyes. "Come on, Chaolan. You really slept with a guy like that? Even I can see he screams needy rich boy from a mile off."

"Okay, first of all, he wasn't giving off that vibe when I first met him, and second-"

Jun saw Kazuya moving the room apart with his black frowns. She went to him as he drew near. She stopped just short of touching him, though it took some effort not to reach out and place her hand against his for comfort.

"What's this?" he said by way of greeting, nodding towards Chaolan and Jae-suk, "lover's tiff?" He pulled a silver cigarette case out of his inside jacket pocket and clicked it open. He selected a cigarette, stamped it against hist wrist, replaced the box and reached for a lighter. He paused before he lit it, cigarette hanging from his mouth. He looked at her. "Did you want one?" She shook her head quickly. "Hey, Chaolan," he called around his cigarette. Chaolan glanced over irritably. "We need to build a school. Put it on the agenda. The prime minister's coming to see it." Chaolan flipped a middle finger up at him and returned to speaking in quiet urgent tones with Jae-suk. "What's his problem?" Kazuya smoked between his teeth.

Jun shifted uncomfortably,

"Kato Takumi is here."

"He's fucking what?" He said that in his business voice. It was always much harder than the tone Jun was used to him taking with her.

"It's fine, I think," Jun said. She looked at Chaolan. He was running a hand back through his hair now and taking a long gulp from the glass in his hand. He looked calmer than he had before, presumably having ascertained that Takumi hadn't said anything too untoward.

Kazuya took a drag in his cigarette and turned away to breathe out the smoke.

"I fucking told him to stop stacking up his flings so fast. There probably a half dozen more here too. I waste so many Zaibatsu resources keeping people like you from turning them into leaky buckets through which our hard earned reputation drains."

"I apologised for that," Jun said quietly.

Kazuya grunted.

"Chaolan?" Jun heard Jae-suk say from behind her. "Are you alright?"

Kazuya's attention snapped round.

Chaolan put a hand to his head and leant his weight against a supporting pillar.

"Yes, yes. Just drunk that drink a little fast." The half empty glass was still in his hand. "Just a little dizzy." Jae-suk took the glass and set it on the end of the buffet table. Kazuya stepped forward and put the back of his hand to Chaolan's forehead. Chaolan's breath was coming fast.

"Something's not right," Kazuya said. Chaolan grabbed his shoulder for support.

"Kaz, sorry, I think I'm going to throw up."

Kazuya lowered him to the ground, and almost as soon as Chaolan's knees hit the tiles he vomited all over the floor. Jae-suk stepped closer. Kazuya spat the end of his cigarette at him.

"Back the fuck off," he growled at him. Jae-suk swallowed and took a step back. "Something's not right. He can drink cocktails for four hours straight and still fuck over a boardroom of shareholders. It's not the alcohol." People were looking at them now, giving them wide berth but staring.

"He said he'd just drunk his drink a little fast," Jae-suk said, wishing to help but also wanting to stay out of arm's reach of Kazuya's temper.

Jun looked at the glass. She looked back at the bar. Kato Takumi in his white fur was staring at them. He had a thunderstruck expression on his face as he looked at Chaolan on the ground with Kazuya leaning over him. Jun grabbed the glass from the table. She sniffed it. A slight soft almond scent met her nose.

Bruce Irvin and the Zaibatsu guards had honed in on them by now, with half the force screening them from view and the others standing to receive Kazuya's orders.

"Boss,-" Bruce started, but Jun cut in.

"Get an ambulance. I think it's cyanide. And bring Kato Takumi over here."

Bruce's eyes flicked to Kazuya who nodded. Jun only had a second to notice the tender way Kazuya held his brother's head in his lap and brushed away the hair from his face. Chaolan was breathing rapidly, his eyes flickering.

"It's alright," she heard Kazuya whisper to him, "I've got you. I've always got your back."

A scuffle drew Jun's attention as Bruce Irvin gripped Kato Takumi by the back of his neck and forced him over towards them. He looked pale and Jun could see beads of sweat on his face. His eyes were glued to Chaolan lying limp on the floor. A tide of mixed emotions swarmed around him: guilt and fear and hate and a pressed sense of desperation.

"Did you poison him?" Jun demanded. Takumi kept staring wildly at Chaolan. He shook his head fiercely, soft white gold locks tumbling out of his high ponytail. "If you did, I need to know what poison you used."

Jae-suk hung back in confusion, but he stepped forward when he heard Jun.

"I don't…- I don't understand. I think Chaolan just had a bit to drink. This man's just an old lover, Chaolan and I were only talking about him bec-"

"_Just an old lover?!_" Takumi spat at Jae-suk, "I am ten times to him what you are! We're destined to be together! Why would he run off to be with some poor, Korean _nobody?! _Why would he leave me for someone like _you?! _It should be you! It should be you on the floor puking your guts out!"

Jun stepped into Takumi's space and grabbed him by his white fur scarf.

"Is it cyanide!?"

Takumi gave her a cold smile.

"The irony is I only knew where to find it in the children's hospital because Chaolan asked me to acquire some for him."

Kazuya threw a finger out, pointing at Takumi, his eyes remained on Chaolan.

"Shut him up!"

Bruce Irvin slammed a hand over Takumi's mouth and two others dragged him from the auditorium. Police were on the scene now, filing in by the main doors and moving guests to one side.

"Why the fuck are they here?" Kazuya raged, "I said to call the ambulance not the fucking cops!"

Jun felt her pulse picked up and her throat dry at the sight of the blue shirts and the sound of black uniform issue boots on tile.

Two paramedics rushed through the door with a stretcher a moment later.

"Cyanide poisoning?" they asked Kazuya, "are you sure?"

Kazuya hesitated and looked up at Jun. She nodded and Kazuya relayed his certainty.

The paramedics crouched next to Chaolan and unzipped a kit. They gave him a puff from a small inhaler, then pulled out a hypodermic needle, flicked it and injected it straight into Chaolan's vein. They pulled out the next needle and began preparing that. Jae-suk was staring at the procedure, eyes wide with fear, he kept trying to come close but Kazuya kept giving him a black snarl whenever he did.

A group of police in bullet proof vests, balaclavas, and shield helmets were moving towards the line of Zaibatsu guards next to her. Jun looked around. Bruce was still not back. Kazuya was helping the paramedics hold Chaolan down, because his body had just started to go into a fit.

Jun stepped forward. She was surprised to see the Prime Minister step out of the police escort.

"Miss… ah Kazama, was it?" the Prime Minister asked.

"Yes, sir." She bowed.

"What can we do to help? Anything Mr Mishima requires is-"

"Everything's under control." Neither she nor the Prime Minister could quite believe she'd just cut through him.

"Has Mr Mishima's brother been injured?"

"Just a disagreement within the Zaibatsu. Everything's being seen to. Mr Lee is in good hands."

"If there's been an attack…" The Prime Minister gestured a police officer forward. "It's in the interest of everyone's safety that police handle the situation."

"We don't need the police," she heard herself say, "everything is under control here."

The police officer exchanged a look with the Prime Minister.

"Excuse me, miss," the police officer put a hand on her shoulder.

"Kindly take your hand off me," Jun said sharply.

There was a sound of rushed footsteps and suddenly a beat cop was next to them, in sky blue uniform.

"I got this, sir, she's an old friend of mine." And there, impossibly, in the middle of all this, was Officer Tanji. "Hey, Kazama." He winked at her. Jun's blood ran cold. He'd taken off his sunglasses and his signature cheap coffee cup was gone, but it was unmistakeably Tanji. Did he somehow think she didn't know that all the police tails and blacklisting were because of him? Because of his lies, and rumours, and bitterness, and jealousy. She was furious to feel the cocky calm radiating off him. Not even an ounce of contrition was in that aura. "You got yourself in a bit of a pickle here, Kazama. Looks like it's finally my chance to prove I can be the hero in your story." He gave her a cheeky grin. "And damn I know its not quite the place to say it but wow, Kazama – that dress. Getting out of that prissy uniform is doing you wonders." She stared at him, completely at a loss for words. "I'm going to need you to step aside for me though, because we've got some real police work that needs doing."

The Zaibatsu guards either side of Jun shifted, unsure if they should be intervening.

Jun could feel her temper simmering. She gave a stiff, half smile.

"I already explained to the Prime Minister that this is all under control. No additional help is needed. We already have paramedics seeing to Mr Lee, and no further assistance is necessary."

"Kazama," Tanji put his hand on her shoulder and sighed-

Jun grabbed his wrist, twisted it and wrenched on an arm lock. She stepped forward with the lock forcing Tanji to the ground. He hissed and let out a gasp of pain as he tried to fight the lock. He found himself pressed further to the ground. The Prime Minister's riot force surround Jun, drawing batons. Their black faceless helmets were a wall about her. She could see the defiance in her own eyes reflected back in the gleam of their shields and mirror visors.

"_Enough!_" Kazuya's voice cut crisp through the commotion. The police circle widened to let him in. "Enough of this! Get out of here." He snapped at the riot police. The officers retreated slowly and formed up rank behind the Prime Minister again. "Your _help_ is not necessary," Kazuya said coldly, "I thought that had already been made clear to you."

The Prime Minister's eyes narrowed and flicked between Kazuya and Jun.

"As you wish, Mr Mishima." The Prime Minister signalled to his police captains and the ranks fell away. They gathered at the far side of the room and spoke with one another in undertones.

Kazuya glanced at Tanji, still immobile under Jun's lock. His eyes briefly met Jun's. Then he left her to resolve the situation, and knelt back at Chaolan's side.

* * *

**Author Note: **100% of my Tekken fics now feature Lee Chaolan collapsing in ballrooms.

내일 울다 (naeil ulda) – Jae-Suk's band are called _Tomorrow Cries._

The prime minister of Japan at this time was Ryutaro Hashimoto, who did indeed hold a 6th dan in kendo and also was later disgraced when he was found to have been taking bribes. He's dead now, so I don't feel too weird about including him unnamed in a Tekken drama.

I'm also very pleased that this gave me an excuse to pay homage to my favourite Kazuya line in from the anime - "but can you defend your truth with your fists."

Next week is my favourite chapter.

Thanks for your continued comments and support, especially to regular readers and commenters: I look forward to reading your comments each week! Reminder that I'm on Twitter and Tumblr if you want to drop by (username is 'erenaeoth'). I've also been hanging out on Discord recently (Oct 2019) on a Tekken rp board playing some Kaz and Jun, so you can find me there too, link is on Archive of Our Own.


	11. The Company of a Killer

_**Warning: **chapter contains themes that may be upsetting_

* * *

The lobby of the building was flashing orange with the turn of ambulance sirens. A figure hurried down the steps toward the exit. His face was fearful and his police uniform was aglow with the rotating blink of emergency lights. He held his arm to his chest as he glanced once back over his shoulder, then slipped into the night.

Kazuya's face soured as he watched the fleeing police officer. He glanced at Jun. With her shoulders pulled back, her head held high, and the stunning dress sweeping the floor, she cut a regal figure.

"You let him go," Kazuya remarked. The officer had looked vaguely familiar. From the force with which Jun had pinned the man to the floor earlier, he had to assume this was the same police officer who'd given her trouble outside the Zaibatsu. "That was your chance to fuck him up."

Jun's face was impassive.

"He's already taken up too much time in my life. I do not have an ounce more to waste on him." Her voice was cold, and Kazuya wondered if there might have been a world not so different from this, where those words had been for him. "He is the sort who wishes to be significant – to push into a life that he's been turned away from. I don't intend to give him the satisfaction of being significant." Jun folded her arms, and her lips pursed. There was a pause, and then she murmured, "I did also sprain his wrist…"

The ghost of a smile played on Kazuya's lips. The smile faded as quickly as it had come when his eyes rested on the paramedics lifting Chaolan onto a gurney. Kazuya watched stony faced as his brother's pale arms were placed across his chest.

Jae-suk was standing a pace away. He was pallid and his cheeks had tracks of tears down them. His fingers were twitching.

"Go home," Kazuya barked at him. Jae-suk jumped and set Kazuya with a look of desperation.

"Kazuya." A soft voice sounded at his elbow. Jun looked up at him. "Let him stay. He's afraid and alone, he doesn't know anyone else in the city, where would he go?"

"Not my problem," he growled. "It's his fault. They're always fawning over Chaolan. Entranced by him. Dragging him down with their petty attentions. They think they love him. They always do. Hah. _Love._ What do they know? Where was their _love_ when Heihachi was pummelling him into the dust? Nowhere. The only thing that ever stood between them was me. My back. My bones. My blood."

Jun touched his arm. Kazuya blinked and looked down at her. There was reproach in her eyes.

"Let him stay," she said more firmly. It wasn't a request.

"I still can't believe you let that cop go." She kept looking at him. Kazuya shifted, then shrugged and grumbled. "Fine. Go with Jae-suk in the ambulance. I have business to sort here before I join you."

She went to Jae-suk and put an arm around him, talking to him softly. Kazuya could see the moment she told him he could stay with Chaolan by the bright thankfulness in his eyes and the fresh tears that gathered there. Kazuya's gaze lingered on his brother. He was flickering in and out of consciousness, eyelids fluttering like dying moths. Kazuya shook himself. Bruce Irvin was stamping back up the wide granite steps into the auditorium. Kazuya strode to meet him, his brow settling.

"Send two guards with the ambulance. Kazama and Jae-suk are going with him. Have another car follow it to the hospital and secure the floor he's taken to. Take me to Kato."

Bruce nodded curtly and began issuing orders.

"Kaz…" Kazuya looked around at the sound of a weak voice. He walked swiftly to Chaolan's side.

"You're going to be alright." Kazuya was somehow always saying that to people. At least this time it wasn't directly his fault. "Jun and Jae-suk are going with you to the hospital. I'll be there shortly."

Chaolan grasped his hand. His fingers were trembling and absent of their usual strength.

"Kaz…" He looked up into Kazuya's eyes. "Don't-… Don't kill him. I'm begging you."

Kazuya's eyes hardened. He squeezed Chaolan's hand.

"Everything will be alright."

"Kaz,… please."

"Take him to the ambulance."

He could see the despair in Chaolan's eyes as they rolled him out. Jae-suk and Jun followed behind. They looked like a funeral procession. Cold, bleak things stirred inside Kazuya.

He nodded curtly to Bruce and they strode out into the night. The plateau was bright with police cars and ambulances. A slight breeze moved the warm air. Kazuya watched as sirens started up, and an ambulance pulled wailing out of the square.

"The van's just in the next street over. We can go by foot but it might draw attention. Shall I have the car brought around?"

"We'll walk. I could used the air." Kazuya took out his silver pocket case and lit up a cigarette.

He could see tell-tail signs that Bruce was agitated: the clench of his fingers on the hand closest to his firearm, the shift and roll of his shoulders, the slight twitch of his lip. Kazuya smoked as they walked. Soon they were on the main street. It was darker than the square holding the government building. Kazuya and Bruce walked alone, and could have been just two ordinary men, out for a stroll.

"Boss," Bruce's agitation finally got the better of him. "People will notice if this rich kid goes missing. He's not the sort that-"

"I was enjoying the silence."

Bruce shut up. The sounds of the city filled the space left behind. There was traffic murmuring in the mid-distance, youths out enjoying their Saturday night, trucks reversing as they stocked up shops for the next day, the throb of a bass beat bleeding out of a club somewhere.

They turned into a dark alley. The backs of tall buildings blanked out the light from the streetlights, cars, signs, and stars. Kazuya's eyes took a few seconds to grow accustomed to the gloom. Pulled up on the curb was a black unmarked van. Two guards leaned against it. They jumped to attention as Kazuya approached. The Zaibatsu logos on their jackets had been covered up.

Kazuya stopped before the van. He took a long pull on his cigarette and breathed out smoke. Then he took another and flicked the stub into the gutter. He stamped out the embers with his dress shoes. He jerked his head at the back of the van.

The doors were opened onto blackness. Kazuya drew closer. Kato Takumi was huddled in a corner. His hair was askew about his shoulders, knees pulled to his chin, white fur wrapped around him. His eyes widened when he saw Kazuya. Kazuya shrugged out of his suit jacket and handed it to Bruce. He stepped up into the van and sat himself on a bench running down one side. He undid the buttons on his cuffs and began to roll up his sleeves slowly.

He drank in the precarious silence, heavy with that teetering skittishness that comes in moments pregnant with violence. When he'd rolled his sleeves past his elbows, he rested his arms on his legs and leaned forward, setting Takumi with his eyes. He said nothing, just stared.

"M-mr Mishima," Takumi's voice was already close to breaking. "I never meant to hurt Chaolan. You know me. You know I would never do anything to willingly hurt him. I love him!" Kazuya said nothing. Takumi drew his arms closer about him. Kazuya could see his hands shaking.

Kazuya clicked his fingers. Takumi jumped. Kazuya pointed above him and then to the door. The van interior light was switched on. It was a blaring yellow after the darkness. The van door was shut, leaving Kazuya and Takumi alone.

Takumi pushed himself further into the corner.

"M-mr Mishima," he pleaded, "please,… I'm-… I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt him."

"You poisoned my brother," Kazuya spoke very softly. He could see the terror in Takumi's eyes deepen. "You poisoned my brother and started telling a room of strangers about procuring cyanide for the Zaibatsu."

"I wasn't thinking, I wasn't in my right mind. I'm loyal to you, Mr Mishima. I would never dare tell any-"

"This isn't the first time this has happened."

Takumi crawled forward until he was on his knees, he bowed low to Kazuya, touching his forehead to the floor.

"It won't happen again, Mr Mishima, I swear to you."

"No. It won't." Takumi looked up at him, face white. "I've given you many opportunities to get over your obsession with my brother."

"Please, Mr Mishima, I love-"

"Don't interrupt me." Kazuya sat back, legs apart, surveying the man before him through thick eyebrows. "I told you what was expected of you. And I told you what would happen if you ever breathed a word of what you know to anyone outside the Zaibatsu. The only reason I've let you be so far is at Chaolan's request. Out of a respect for him, I've given you chance after chance. And this is how you repay me? By poisoning my brother? My only family?"

"I-it was a mistake," Takumi whispered. "It wasn't meant for him. It was meant for… for that-…" Even in the midst of his fear, Takumi still spat and struggled over the idea of his replacement.

"His boyfriend?" Kazuya supplied. Takumi's eyes flashed. He bowed his head low again quickly and fell quiet. Kazuya folded his arms. "Who knows about cyanide you stole?"

"No one! Just my butler, Yasui."

"Did you steal it from the same place you took it from first time?"

"Y-yes. There's a supply closet in the hospital. They hadn't ch-changed the code since last time. It's such a small amount and it's so rarely used for m-medicinal purposes, I don't think anyone noticed I took it either time."

Kazuya regarded him in silence for a moment.

"Have you ever done heroine?"

Takumi looked up at him, confused at the change in topic.

"No…"

"Cocaine?"

"M-mr Mishima, what-?"

"Answer the question."

"Yes…"

"Regularly?"

"Sometimes before a party. But I haven't been going out very much since… since…" His eyes filled with tears.

"Right, here's what's going to happen. You're going to go home tonight and overdose on cocaine-"

A frightened squeak came from the man on the floor. His tears were falling freely now. He prostrated himself on the floor.

"M-mr Mishima, _please_, I-I d-don't want to d-die!"

"You _are_ going to die. You can choose whether that's painlessly in the comfort of your own home, or here, right now, by my hand." Kazuya looked down at the sobbing pile at his feet. He drummed his fingers on his biceps impatiently. "Well? What'll it be?"

"P-p-p…"

"An answer, Takumi."

The sobbing grew harder.

Kazuya reached down into the fur and dragged him upright. The face before him was a mess of tears and ragged breathing. Takumi wrapped trembling hands around the fist holding him up.

"P-p-please, p-please. I'll b-be silent. I-I'll never even think of Ch-chaolan again. I'll l-leave Toyko. I'll d-do anything you want."

Kazuya pulled him in close.

"He could have died today." Kazuya could feel his face twitching as he struggled to keep his cool. There was anger building in his chest. His lips twisted into a cold grimace. "Do you know what happened the last time someone took someone I cared for from me?" Takumi shook his head, and tried not to make too much noise as tears bubbled down his face and his nose streamed. "I swore I would kill them," Kazuya said softly. "It took me twenty-one years to make good on that promise. But I did it." He reached with his other hand and closed it around Takumi's neck. "Twenty-one years to kill one man. But you'll only take me a couple of seconds. One, quick snap. If I'm feeling generous. Otherwise I can make it a long, drawn out-" Kazuya felt the throat under his hand swallow.

"I-I'll d-do it."

"I know you will," Kazuya's voice was silky. "But just to make sure, I'm going to send my good friend Bruce Irvin with you. He's going to make sure you don't get cold feet. Because if you do, do you know what will happen?"

"H-he'll k-kill me."

"No, Takumi. He will bring you back to me, and_ I_ will kill you. I will look into your eyes like I'm doing now and I will watch the life leave them as I break you." He moved his hand from Takumi's neck to the back of his head, forcing him closer until their faces were only an inch apart. "And I will forget to tell Chaolan that he wasn't the intended recipient of that poison. He will live the rest of his life believing that you meant to kill him."

And like that the last of the fight died in Takumi's eyes. Kazuya released him and he sunk, until his face was against Kazuya's knees. His crying was silent now and punctuated by erratic shuddering.

Kazuya pushed him off onto the floor, where he crumpled into a pile that kept trembling. Kazuya banged his fist twice against the side of the van.

"You have until midnight tonight. If it's not done by then, I'll do it myself."

The van doors opened and Kazuya stepped out. He took his jacket back from Bruce and felt around for his cigarette case. He spoke around a cigarette as he lit it in his mouth, shielding it with his hands from the slight breeze. He jerked his head towards Takumi.

"Go with him. He knows what he needs to do." Kazuya flicked his lighter off and breathed out smoke into the night air. "And keep me updated. Give me one of those radios." Bruce extracted one from his belt quickly and handed it to Kazuya. Kazuya pocketed it. "I don't want this van seen. I'll walk back to the square and send the limo to pick you up. Kato Takumi can have one last ride in style."

Kazuya beckoned to the two guards to follow him, then strode back down the alleyway into the night.

* * *

Chaolan awoke feeling nauseous. His eyes swivelled left and right, immediately looking for Kazuya. He couldn't see much. He was lying on his back on a bed. White sheets were pulled up to his chin. A white ceiling was above him. A hospital. He'd been in hospitals before. They were something of a recurrence in his life.

"Ka… Kazuya."

A young woman with kind eyes, soft dark hair, and a stunning dress came to his side. Chaolan recoiled from her.

"Kazuya isn't here yet. He will be soon, don't worry," she said.

Chaolan's swivelled his vision to the right. A young man with bright red hair, bounded to his side. He had worry in his eyes. He looked good in the black shirt, white tie, and gold chain he was wearing. Chaolan reigned in those thoughts quickly.

"Is my father here?" he asked softly.

The woman and young man exchanged glances. Chaolan felt his chest tighten. They were working for Heihachi. They would be reporting back on this: on his weakness, on his failure not to notice… to notice what. He closed his eyes tight, trying to recollect.

"Your father isn't here," the woman said carefully.

"Does he know where I am?" It felt very important to know as much about the situation as he could, as quickly as he could. Why exactly he was in a hospital could wait, his first priority was making sure he could reassure his father that this wasn't what it looked like, that this wasn't weakness, that this wasn't a mistake- "Don't let him in. If he asks for me, don't let him in."

"Chaolan…" the young man said. How impudent, using his personal name, as if Chaolan was a nobody and not the son of Mishima Heihachi. "The doctors said you might be a bit confused at first…"

"They're giving you oxygen on the hour, you've had the injections which should help your body break down the poison," the woman added. _Poison? _Chaolan kept his face impassive, receiving this information and making sure he didn't look like it was new to him. He'd spent years perfecting that look. The art of pretending to be clued in until he could follow along like a natural. Faking it until you make it. He could do this. Wealth, aristocracy, power, he could pretend until it felt more like his skin than his own skin. He gave a slight smile. The trick was not to reveal too much ignorance, to keep others talking, to make them feel like they were important and he wanted to listen to them, to rake through the information they let slip and build it into his own vocabulary.

A nurse came in and instructed him to lie still and take several deep breaths of through a mask. He felt his eyes roll back as he sucked in the too close air. When she was gone again, he lay staring dimly up at the ceiling.

He'd been in hospitals before. He'd once got into the path of a bullet meant for Kazuya. That had been his least favourite visit. Another time was when Kazuya had put a lock on too hard and snapped a bone in his arm. He never did work out if his brother had done that on purpose. Chaolan had mocked him that morning whilst their father was present. He was still sure that broken wrist might have been payback. Then there was the first time of course. That had been a children's clinic in Shanghai. He'd been on so many drips then, and the hospital sheets barely looked like there was anything beneath them as they lay over his thin, skeletal body. The places where there were needles in his arms had come up as enormous purple bruises. There had been plenty of injuries over the years since then, of course, but they were rarely taken outside of the family estate. The private doctor had probably been paid as much for his silence as he had for his services. Kazuya had kept him on, and the same doctor had seen to the injuries Chaolan had sustained a few weeks ago. _A few weeks ago._ That was good. It was clear to him now that pieces of the puzzle were still missing. _Heihachi is dead. _That came to him like a lightening bolt. Was he sure? Was he really sure about that one, because that was one assumption he did not want to fuck up. A picture of Kazuya, looking ragged, battered, and bloody, with his red gloves clenched tight in victory, his face grim, his eyes manic. _Kazuya killed him. _Where the fuck was Kazuya? This would all be much easier to do with him here.

"How are you feeling?" The young man was at his side again. Chaolan looked at him. He felt a little light-headed from the oxygen.

"Huh?"

"How are you feeling?" The young man had very earnest brown eyes.

"You're hot," Chaolan informed him. A blush rose immediately in the young man's cheeks. The young woman covered a smile with her hand. "Oh," he turned to her, "I didn't mean to be rude, you're very beautiful as well. I'm open to fucking people regardless of gender. Also I apologise, I think that nurse might given me some E because I'm feeling high as fuck, right now."

"I'm pretty sure that was just oxygen," the woman said. She was scarlet.

"Definitely cute when you blush," Chaolan remarked.

"I'm with Kazuya," she said abruptly.

"Ah." That would explain that insane look she'd been giving him then. "If it was anyone else, I'd say so what. But I've had a lifetime to perfect pissing off Kaz, and I've come to the conclusion that on the whole it's not worth the years it takes off my life. Can someone get me a cigarette?"

"I don't think that's allowed, Chaolan," the young man said. Chaolan's gaze fixed on his lips and the way they moved to form words.

"Are we dating? If we're not, we should be."

"We're dating."

"Oh, thank fuck for that." Chaolan closed his eyes. Things were coming back. Vomiting his guts out onto a stone floor. Not the first thing he'd hoped to remember, but hardly a unique memory. Drinks, smiles, a buffet, expensive perfume, the smell of newly polished boots, sights to make a thin street urchin wide eyed. He frowned and shut his eyes tighter, willing his memories to stop folding in on one another. The soft smell of Jae-suk's shampoo as he pressed his nose into his hair. Kazama Jun turning to see him and the dress he bought her fanning out about her as she did. The taste of caviar on crunchy bruschetta. Kato Takumi at the bar, ordering two drinks, his hand skating over the top of one glass before he picked it up and handed it to Jae-suk. _Damn._ He let out a heavy sigh and opened his eyes. "Jae-suk," he said, and the young man made a noise and threw his arms around him. Suddenly he was crying and holding onto Chaolan.

"The d-doctor said you m-might have suffered a p-permanent brain injury from the cyanide." He buried his face in Chaolan's hospital gown. Chaolan stroked his hair.

"It's alright. I remember."

"You do?" Jun asked him. He winced.

"Sorry for my somewhat loose words." His face fell as he looked again round the room with new eyes. "Where is Kazuya?"

"He's not here yet. He said he'd be here soon, he just had some business to take care of."

Chaolan's hand froze in Jae-suk's hair.

"I need to speak with him. _Now._"

"I don't know where he is, or how to get hold of him. He said he'd join us here."

"Kato Takumi is in danger."

"Kato?" Jun frowned, "I think he's in police custody."

Chaolan shook his head vehemently.

"He's not." He fixed Jun with a look. A look that he hoped conveyed the full weight of the dread in his stomach.

"What would Kazuy-" Jun stopped herself and a look of horror finally pulled itself over her face.

"Find him," Chaolan pleaded. Jun gave a curt nod and darted out the room. She came back in a second later, walking backwards. Kazuya followed her in, long black coat swinging down to his ankles, a new cigarette was in his mouth and a stray hair had escaped the neat gel and was curling over his forehead. A bunch of white lilies in transparent plastic wrapping were in his hand.

"What have you done!?" Chaolan sat up in bed with difficulty. "What have you done, you bastard!?" Jae-suk clasped his arm, trying to calm him.

"Settle down, Chaolan. I brought you flowers. Your favourite. Fucking hard to come by at this time of night." Kazuya smoked out the side of his mouth as he spoke.

"Did you kill him? Did you get Bruce to do it? Is that where he is? Fuck you, Kazuya. I'll never forgive you if you've killed him!"

Kazuya breathed out a plume of smoke. He tossed the flowers onto the foot of the bed. There was a hard, unreadable look on his face.

"Alright, everyone out. I need to speak with my brother alone." The room went silent and still. Kazuya clapped his hands. "Let's see some movement here!"

Jae-suk stood up quickly. His hair was tousled and his shirt was askew.

"Mr Mishima, please can I stay by Chaolan's side, I-"

"He'll be right here when I'm finished with him. Now get out, don't make me ask again." Jae-suk hung his head and slipped out of the room. Kazuya turned expectantly to Jun, eyebrows raised in question.

Jun curled her fists at her side.

"I'm not going."

The cigarette twitched in Kazuya's mouth.

"I said I need to speak with my brother," he said.

"Why not let her stay, Kazuya?" Chaolan spat, "let her see what a fucking monster you are."

"You're high on painkillers, so I'm going to let that pass."

"I'm not on painkillers. They gave me oxygen and I was high for one minute."

Kazuya scratched his jaw, lips twisting in irritation, he threw himself into the chair Jae-suk had vacated at Chaolan's bedside and smoked between his teeth, apparently content to ignore Jun for now.

"Calm the fuck down. He's not dead."

"I don't believe you." Chaolan's eyes were sunken and his cheeks dark from the close fling with death. "Let me speak to him. Fetch me a phone."

"He nearly killed you," Kazuya growled.

"He didn't mean to. He'd never mean to."

"He was running his mouth."

"I'll solve it. I'll fix it. He's my problem."

Kazuya pulled his cigarette out his mouth and held it between two fingers,

"It's my fucking company."

"I know that. Just let me speak to him. If he's really alive, then what's the big deal? Please, Kazuya."

Kazuya reached inside his jacket and pulled out a radio. He clicked it on and it buzzed to life.

"Boss?" Bruce's voice came through crackly.

"Put him on the radio."

Kazuya handed the radio to Chaolan. Chaolan grasped it and pulled it to him.

"Hey, babe. You there?"

Kazuya rolled his eyes and sat back. He crossed one leg over his knee and smoked quietly, eyes drifting to Jun still standing in the corner.

"Ch-Ch-Chaolan?!" A broken voice came over the receiver.

"Are you okay? Are you alright?"

"I th-thought I'd k-killed you!"

"I'm okay. Going to pull through."

"I'm s-so s-sorry!"

"I know you are, babe. I'm just glad you're okay. No one's hurt you have they?"

"N-no." There was a sniff and a long, heavy sigh. "I'm really glad you're alright, my love. I've been dreaming of you ringing me for so long." Chaolan's brow furrowed and he bit his lip. "It was almost worth it just to hear your voice one more time."

"Right…" Chaolan's face was losing its brightness. "Takumi, we talked about this. We decided it was best for us not to speak. You kept getting upset and… possessive every time we spoke."

"Call me 'babe' one more time. I liked the way you used to do that. I liked the way you always made me feel special." The tremor had gone from Takumi's voice and he was sounding more relaxed now. "Please, my love, just one last time?"

"We're not like that any more, Takumi. And you've got to cut this out. You can't go lashing out at the people in my life."

"I won't any more. I just want this. Just one last goodbye."

"Takumi…"

"You know I never meant to hurt you, don't you? You know it was never you I wanted to hurt…"

"… I know."

"Good… good. Mr Mishima said if I wasn't good he'd tell you I'd meant to hurt you. But you know I never…"

"I know, Takumi."

"I feel happy again. I haven't felt happy in a long time."

"Takumi? Are you alright? You sound… distracted. Is everything-… are you okay?"

"I love you, Chaolan."

"Enough chit chat." Kazuya beckoned for the radio back. "He's alive, as you can hear."

Chaolan's fingers were going white as he gripped the receiver.

"Takumi? Takumi, is everything alright?" He looked at the radio, then at Kazuya. "Kaz,… what-… what have you...-?"

"Your friend's just tired. He's had a long day. Hand the radio back, Chaolan."

"K… Kaz…"

Kazuya gestured more emphatically. Chaolan placed the radio in his hand. Kazuya clicked it off.

"Now, stop worrying and get some rest. Save your strength for getting well, okay?" Kazuya stood. "Lie down." Chaolan sunk into the covers, looking up at him warily. Kazuya stroked his hair, and bent and kissed his forehead. "Now sleep. Let me take care of things."

Chaolan's eyes followed him as he moved away from the bed. Kazuya gestured to Jun and she joined him. He looked back once before they left him alone in the hospital ward.

* * *

"You're lying to him," Jun said as soon as the ward door shut behind them.

"Reading my mind again, Kazama?"

"I can't 'read your mind'. And besides, I don't need to. Everything about you is screaming it. And he knows it too."

"He knows it," Kazuya flicked the end of his cigarette into a rubbish bin as he passed. "But he appreciates me dressing it up. Humanising it. Letting him say goodbye."

"So you _are _having Takumi killed?"

"Don't ask me about my business. You waived that right when you dropped being a cop."

"I'm not asking as a _cop_. I'm asking as someone who loves you."

Kazuya stopped in his tracks. Jun stopped too. She passed her tongue over her lips and glanced away.

"You what?"

"Are you having him killed?"

Kazuya rubbed his chin. He frowned and started walking again. Jun kept pace.

"Overdose. He's doing it himself."

She shook her head,

"Why?"

"_Why? _Because he's a fucking liability and he nearly killed my brother. And he keeps spilling his guts about stuff that needs to not go public."

"Is this who you are? Convincing people to kill themselves so you can keep your company's secrets?"

"Keep it down." They passed by a waiting area. Jae-suk jumped up, eyes looking hopefully at Kazuya. Kazuya jerked his head back toward the ward room. Jae-suk beamed and bowed to him before hurrying back to Chaolan's room.

"It's not too late to change this. Call Bruce back up. Put a stop to this. Hand Kato Takumi over to the police."

"_Hah!_" Kazuya laughed, "I don't think so. So that the police can hold this over us and threaten to leak it when we don't pay up bigger bonuses? Not likely. And it's too late anyway. Kato's several lines deep into the coke. It won't be long now. It's the best option for everyone and Chaolan knows it. He'll be upset, but he'll come around."

They walked down the steps and out into the street. It was late now and the evening air was finally cooling to a pleasant degree.

"This isn't about Chaolan accepting it. It's about what's right. You've destroyed that young man's life."

"Fuck off. He destroyed his own life when he walked into that room with cyanide in his pocket. All I did was damage control."

"Kazuya…"

"Listen." He turned to her. He gritted his teeth and ran his hand back through his hair. Jun wrapped her arms about herself. "This wasn't the way I wanted this evening to go. This wasn't what I wanted you to see. But Chaolan's right. You've had a good look now. Here I am. This is who I am. This is what I do. And if you have to walk away. Then – this is the time. Because I'm not apologising for what has to be done. And I'm not changing."

"What happens if I walk away?" she asked coldly, "do I get a personal chat and a cocaine overdose too?"

He recoiled at that, stung. He glanced away.

"Of course not."

"Only if I run my mouth."

"I'm not going to have you _killed,_" he snapped.

"Oh? And what's the difference? Wouldn't I be just another Kato Takumi? Ruining your plans by breathing and saying the wrong thing?"

"You're not Kato Takumi."

"Aren't I?" She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, eyes flashing, lip jutting out stubbornly.

He brushed a hair from her cheek.

"No," he said softly.

"You're not pulling that with me, Mishima Kazuya. This is a serious conversation right here!"

He stepped in and brought his face a little closer to hers. He could see the outrage and colour in her cheeks.

"I _am_ being serious," he murmured. He bowed his forehead and touched it to hers.

She closed her eyes,

"Kazuya…" The night was dark but the street beyond the hotel carpark passed blinks of coloured light through her eyelids. She let out her breath slowly. "Can you have someone take me home?"

"Of course." She felt his fingers tracing her cheeks. His fingertips had a rough texture to them, but just now they were light. "Can I call you tomorrow?"

"You'll be busy tomorrow. You'll have Chaolan to look after. And all the fallout from this evening to sort out with the press."

"Sometime soon then?" She felt his thumb brush her chin, soft and gentle. She was quiet. "Please?" She opened her eyes. His eyes were almost black in the low lighting. She nodded slowly. "Thank you." He drew her close and wrapped an arm about her shoulder. He clicked a finger and a Zaibatsu guard emerged from the shadows beyond the hospital entrance. "Have a car brought around." He held her whilst they waited. A black suzuki pulled up. A Zaibatsu guard got out and opened the door for Jun. "I'll see you soon." Kazuya kissed her forehead. They drew apart. "You looked stunning tonight."

He gave her a smile as he plunged his hands into the pockets of his long coat. He stepped backwards into the artificial light of the hospital door way, casting the angles of his face into shadow. He gave her one last smile. It had a charming, roguish kind of recklessness to it. Then he turned around and jerked his head. Two more Zaibatsu guards stepped out of the darkness and fell into step behind him as he walked back into the hospital.

* * *

**Author Note: **Sorry its so fuckn dark. I wanted charming ruthless godfather Kaz to come out strong with this one. He's not all light and fluffy with mild crimes that can be swept under the rug. sorry to those who were hoping for more Tanji bashing - but in return hopefully this chapter tells you how Kaz and Jun respectively deal with the urge for vengeance! I'd say it's going to get lighter, but that's a lie, it's going to get darker before it gets lighter. but I promise beautiful things will come. thanks so much for your continued support!


	12. Learning Ugly Truths

They were strolling about Ueno Onshi Park, with the red brick of the art museum to their left and the early afternoon sunlight sifting through tree branches to their right.

Kazuya frowned slightly as Jun wrapped her arms about her middle.

"Everything alright?"

"Hm? Yes. Just a little hungry."

"Have you not had lunch? There's a cafe in the museum here. It's hardly high quality, but if you're hungry…"

"I'd like that. As long as it doesn't upset your security arrangements."

"It should be fine." It wouldn't be fine. It would be very annoying. Walking in public places was one thing, but stopping for any length of time was always a big potential security breach. He'd have to have the cafe cleared and guards posted to stop anyone entering. All for a run-of-the-mill cafe with no distinguished catering to speak of. He brushed that from his thoughts for the moment. "I wanted to ask you about Saturday night. How did you know it was cyanide?"

Jun looked at him. The light touched her cheeks and her hair was pulled by the edge of a breeze. He never tired of trying to understand the strange depths to her gaze.

"I once saw a squirrel suffocating. Because of an apple pip of all things. I couldn't help it in time. It was dead within minutes. I read up about poisoning and antidotes after that. Apple pips contain fractions of cyanide. Still a lethal dose for something so small." Jun sighed. "It's not something that can be treated in the wild, so I honestly didn't think it was information that would ever come in useful. I remember the smell was meant to be like bitter almonds though, and I remember the early symptoms of it, and I saw this look on Kato Takumi's face…, and I'm aware cyanide is a poison of choice in some circles. I just… put the pieces together."

"You did all that in a matter of seconds?" He stared at her, incredulous.

Jun shrugged, a little shy.

"The mind does strange things under pressure."

"Your mind saved my brother's life." Jun looked away. But Kazuya stopped. "Look at me." She did. "The doctors told me if he hadn't been immediately administered with the antidote drugs, he could have suffered a permanent brain injury, or died. If you hadn't been watching, the paramedics may never have been called, and even if they had, cyanide poisoning is apparently extremely difficult to diagnose. It breaks down in the body very quickly. You saved his life." She gave a small smile, but looked away again quickly. "What? What is it?"

She shook her head.

"I can't help thinking, if I'd stayed with you instead of going in that ambulance, maybe I could have saved Kato Takumi too."

Kazuya rolled his eyes and folded his arms. His breath came out in a huff.

"No one could save Kato Takumi from his fucking poor life choices."

"I could have saved him from you."

"No, you couldn't."

She fixed him with those sharp, dark eyes. He hesitated at the resolve he saw there. He broke eye contact and used the excuse to order his security over. He whispered instructions to them so that they could go on ahead and clear the cafe without Jun noticing. When they'd gone to carry out his orders, he found Jun still staring at him.

"Can we drop this Kato Takumi business? It's in the past."

"There are rumours that you killed a man at the Zaibatsu two months back."

"What do you want? A confession list of all the things I've done? What age do you want me to start at? Got several hundred spare notebooks to write it all down in?"

She looked hurt at that. Kazuya couldn't understand why. Surely she knew by now what sort of person he was. If that bothered her so much, why did she stick around? How could she be perpetually injured and surprised by what he'd done? He'd told her he killed his own father. Ordering a loose-lipped would-be poisoner to overdose in the privacy of his own home hardly compared to that.

The art museum cafe had long glass windows on both sides, and far too many small tables inside.

Jun peered through the glass as they approached.

"Looks pretty empty, maybe it's closed?"

"It's open. Must just be off-season."

He sat down awkwardly across from her in a cheap plastic chair as she scoured the menu.

"Are… are you going to eat?" she asked.

"I've already eaten."

"I just feel bad always eating whilst you don't…"

"It makes no difference to me. I'd rather you were comfortable." He glanced around at the budget décor. It was kitsch and trying too hard. She ordered a fair amount to eat, he noticed, and kept her eyes lowered after she'd done so, like she was embarrassed. He couldn't fathom that, so he thought the easiest thing to do was to change the conversation. "I'm sorry we didn't get to enjoy the evening on Saturday. I spoke with the Prime Minister longer than I'd intended to. And then Chaolan-… I'd been hoping to ask you to dance."

"D-dance?" That snapped her out of whatever was keeping her head down. Kazuya gave a half smirk. "You dance?"

"Not often. But the company might have encouraged me to partake in a rarity."

"I can't imagine you dancing."

"Oh really? I've had a very aristocratic upbringing. I was always being invited to dances."

"I bet you stood in a corner and glared at people."

Kazuya frowned. That hit a little too close to the mark. She smiled though when she realised she'd stumbled on the truth. Her smile made it worth it. He sipped from a weak cup of coffee that had been brought over. It barely even tasted like coffee. He schooled his face so as not to let on.

"Perhaps," he admitted.

"I knew it. Did Chaolan dance?"

"Not really. He worried too much to enjoy himself in the old days." Jun looked at him curiously. He never liked talking about his years under Heihachi, but somehow Jun always wheedled tales out of him. "Contrary to appearances, the Chaolan we all know and love today took many years to construct and perfect. He was a ball of nerves and anxiety for most of his teenage years. Except when he was fighting. He punched like a demon. Even when he was scrawny and thin and just arrived." Kazuya wrinkled his lip at the memory. It had been mortifying the first time Chaolan had landed a hit on him in that condition. Kazuya had been learning his father's karate style for years, and some urchin, barely more than a bag of bones, had been brought into the ancestral dojo and had laid a hit clean into his jaw. Whilst his father was watching. Kazuya touched his jaw at the memory. That was the first time he thought perhaps he hated someone more than his father. He'd seen the error of his ways eventually of course. No one deserved his hate more than Heihachi.

"Is Chaolan doing alright? You said he was out of hospital."

"Against my judgement, but yes. I wanted him to stay in a few more days, but he's exercising his irritating rebellious streak to let me know he's furious with me. I let him go to Seoul for a few days, but he can't even find it in himself to be grateful for that."

"He knows then,… about…"

"He knew the moment it happened. He deluded himself for long enough that he feels like he can blame this on me. But we both knew what had to be done the moment Takumi tried to poison him."

Jun glanced down and held a cup of green tea between her hands. It had been served just in one large cup with a teabag, without even a teapot. Was nothing sacred any more? How hard was it to make a pot of tea right? He looked away.

"Why are you still here?" He asked her. He didn't look at her face. He knew it would be hurt.

"What… what do you mean? I'm waiting for the food that-"

"I don't mean _here_ here. I mean with me. You clearly despise everything I do. I stand for everything you fight against. I'm sure there plenty of people who can better meet your standards than I do." _Plenty of people who could make you happy. _He didn't say that though.

Jun frowned. She pulled the teabag out of her tea and set it on a saucer.

"I do hate the things you do, but there's more to you than that." Kazuya set down the appalling coffee and folded his arms. He levelled a stare at her. Jun turned the teacup around in her hands. "You… you do terrible things, but that's not all there is to Mishima Kazuya. The Kazuya I like spending time with:… he's observant, respectful, he listens to me, takes me seriously even when I'm saying ridiculous things, he's got this dry sense of humour that I like, he's never patronising or demeaning even though there are a lot of things about his world I don't know, he's gentle, he doesn't need to prove anything about himself so he's careful with how he acts." Kazuya was still staring at her, but it was with a different look now, eyes widened slightly, heart beating that bit faster. "I've been in Tokyo for almost two months and you're the only person who-…" She stopped, and looked down into her teacup. "Everyone else wants something. Everyone else sees what they want to see. Did you know,… no one else in my life has ever-… Really simple things, like, no one else has ever assumed I'm a martial artist before. They just make a judgement and think they know everything about me."

Kazuya definitely felt his heart beating fast now. There was an odd tightness in his chest, a bit like there had been before the first time he had to get up and speak in public as a representative of his father's company.

"Then you know lots of people who make poor judgements. Like I said, it was obvious you were an experienced fighter." He sipped his bad coffee, just so that his attention was directed elsewhere and he didn't have to look at those intense, bright eyes.

"A-and when you gave me a lift that evening from the Zaibatsu…"

"I was really fucking restrained that day. I wanted to go over and pummel that cop into the fucking dirt. Only reason I didn't was because if you'd thought it was productive you would have done it yourself."

He'd been hoping to pull the conversation out of the very emotional turn it had taken, but for some reason that comment made Jun's lip tremble slightly, and she was looking at him now with open adoration. He hated that. He hated that she kept looking at him like he was some kind gift to humanity. Couldn't she see along with everyone else that he was monstrous? A blight upon the earth ten times worse than his father had been? Didn't she read the newspapers? The way he was strangling all his competition, the complete control he had over weapons markets, pharmaceutical sales, political elections… People could live or die on the basis of his word alone. She was one of the only people in his life outside his control. There wasn't anything she had that he could take away or use against her. Everything she cared about was too far out of his reach and understanding. She never asked him for anything, and didn't want the things most people wanted that he could manipulate them over. She didn't want wealth or power or fame or popularity. And yet here she was. With all her genuine brightness. Here for _him_. The him that had become so synonymous with the Zaibatsu and the Mishima legacy, that he wasn't sure he could himself see the person she claimed to see. He wasn't sure there was a Kazuya that wasn't the ambition, the control, the violence. He shook his head.

"There are so many better people to waste your time on. You should go find some… tree-hugging activist type, who wears their heart on their sleeve the same as you. Get married and have tree-hugging children. Live in Yakushima and cure squirrels of cyanide poisoning."

She gave him a small smile.

"Maybe I should."

He knew her tone was playful, but for some reason as she said it, he felt a pang of urgency. A shadow passed over him as he thought of her walking out of his life. Of no more open frank conversations like this, where a light stroll and a coffee became a dissection table making him rethink every choice he'd made in his life. The thought of his life without her seemed so incredibly dark that he realised for the first time how much he really wanted this. How much he needed her to be a part of his everyday existence. Her cautions and judgements haunted him even when she wasn't present, and that earnesty – that continuous persistence to see things in him that were worthwhile and not just given over to brutal decisions – he hadn't realised before how much he needed to hear that there was more to him than the Mishima Zaibatsu, than being the son of Mishima Heihachi.

"Hey," she reached across and laid her hand over his. He started and looked at her quickly. There was quiet and knowing in her eyes. Just looking at her made him feel vulnerable. And peaceful.

The food arrived and Jun took her hand away quickly.

* * *

Jun picked at her food carefully. Kazuya looked like he was deep in thought, so she doubted he'd notice the ravenous hunger as she devoured what was on the plate before her, but she thought she'd be careful all the same. Things hadn't gotten any better for her since the weekend, and there was a slow train of realisation pulling into her mind that told her something was going to have to give soon. Her current way of life was not sustainable.

Kazuya looked up as a Zaibatsu guard approached. His face sunk into a scowl. The woman approaching wore a Zaibatsu waterproof over black body armour, with a face that grew in trepidation as she moved closer.

"Sir…"

"What?!" Kazuya snapped, "I gave instructions that I wasn't to be disturbed."

"Urgent message from Mr Irvin, sir. He said it couldn't wait."

Kazuya glowered at her then stood.

"One moment," he said to Jun, "I'll deal with these useless idiots and come right back."

Jun watched him walk away and snatch a large blocky looking mobile phone receiver out of his subordinate's hand. Jun glanced around and realised now that there were a number of guards covertly standing at intervals around the outside of the cafe. She wondered how long they'd been there, and whether they were keeping anyone else from entering. As soon as she felt relatively alone, she wolfed down the food in front of her.

Kazuya returned five minutes later looking troubled. If he noticed that she'd demolished everything in front of her, he didn't say so.

"Something has come up," he said.

Her heart fell.

"Okay. Not a problem." This afternoon… appointment with him had been the one thing she'd been looking forward to all week.

"I want you to come with me."

"Come…" She frowned. "To the Zaibatsu?"

"Yes. There's an urgent situation the requires my attention. Your input would be welcome."

She looked at him warily. There was something in his tone of voice that made her uneasy.

"Okay…"

Jun finished up her tea whilst Kazuya summoned the waiter over.

"I… I can't just bill your company, M-Mr Mishima," she overheard the waiter saying. "I-it's not in company policy – I don't even know how to do that…"

"Incompetent." She heard Kazuya hiss under his breath. "Well I don't carry cash or cards on me, do I." He snapped irritably. He beckoned to the Zaibatsu guard next to him. "Pay this fool. Give the receipt to Chaol-… Shit." He put his hand to his eyes. "Do I have to do everything myself?" The bodyguard rifled through her own wallet and handed over a few notes to the waiter. "What's your name?" Kazuya asked the guard as the waiter bowed repeatedly, cash in hand and backed away.

"Fujita, sir."

"Fujita? I'm not going to remember that. Just tell Bruce to give you a bonus this month."

"He won't believe that's from you, sir. He'll tell me I'm a smartass making things up."

"Ask him how smart he felt when I had him pulled from the wreckage of that plane and he couldn't even remember his own name." He beckoned to Jun, then turned back to Fujita, "have the car brought to the nearest exit, we need to move quickly."

"We do?" Jun asked him as they picked up a brisk walking pace. When he didn't answer she became contemplative. "Sorry about… causing trouble: that spontaneous cafe plan and-"

"It's fine." Jun's fingers twisted together as she walked, she bit her lip. Kazuya glanced at her. "I said it was fine. Stop worrying. You'll have bigger worries soon enough."

That ominous note was certainly enough to catapult Jun out those concerns and into much deeper ones. She was racking her mind for what he could be talking about as they were driven away from the park. There was something in his manner that disturbed her. It was getting harder to read his emotions these days. He was no longer an eternal whirlpool of black hate and anger. Complex things stirred within him, always a blend pulling him this way and that. It didn't help that her own emotions were so confused about him that she found it hard to calm herself and decipher what was hers and what was his.

When she got out the car, they weren't outside the Zaibatsu building. She felt suddenly unsure of herself. She was standing outside a black car with dark windows, surrounded by armed guards before a security gate set in high white walls, beyond which was a grey, concrete, square building. She didn't recognise what part of the city she was in. When she looked at Kazuya, for a moment all the familiarity was forgotten, and she could see him. His smart suit, his carefully tailored appearance, the high imperious arch of his eyebrows, that aristocratic way he looked down on the nearest human being, the ease with which he held himself, the way he clicked his fingers with expectation that his authority was absolute. And for a moment she was afraid, like she realised she should have been all along. Then he looked at her with human eyes, uncertain and questioning, and a flutter of concern was in his brow, and she again saw the man instead of the monster. She smiled and he relaxed and gestured for her to follow him.

She followed him into the grounds beyond the gate. As they stepped into the shadow of the building, Jun craned her head back. Dozens of security cameras looked down at her, their red eyes blinking slowly. She caught up to Kazuya, feeling out of place.

They entered by a side door that revealed little more as to the purpose of the building. They passed through grey monotonous corridors with doors and security cameras. Kazuya led her up a flight of steps, past two more armed guards who bowed low to him, and then through a bulletproof door into a security control room. The first thing Jun noticed were the lines of monitors before her all posting grainy black and white footage into the room and filling it with a glowing, unnatural light.

"Boss," Bruce Irvin swivelled round in a desk chair, "we've got-" He broke off on seeing Jun.

"Continue," Kazuya said.

Bruce hesitated for a moment before doing so,

"He's been moving around the ground level and hasn't managed to get through any of the security doors. I haven't intercepted yet as you requested, but he is armed. You should know, he's currently on corridor 1E, which will take him to staircase F – that isn't security locked. From there he can get up to the next level where the…" He glanced at Jun again, and fell quiet.

Kazuya made a dismissive motion with his hand. Bruce vacated the desk chair. Kazuya gestured Jun to it. Jun's discomfort returned again. She swallowed. This felt like that moment when Kazuya had rounded on her for interrogating Kato Takumi. She couldn't work out what she'd done wrong this time though. She obediently sunk into the chair. It was too low and she had lever it up so that she could see properly.

"Tell her which cameras we're looking at."

Bruce looked at Kazuya hesitantly, then quickly bent to his duty. He leaned across Jun and tapped a couple of screens. Jun frowned and leaned in close. It was hard to make out what was going on in them. A man was creeping down a corridor. He moved with his back to the walls, hands held close and low. A black blob was in his hands, too fuzzy to make out, but Jun immediately knew from the way he moved that that was a gun, and he was trained to used it. The man disappeared out the bottom of one screen and reappeared at the top of the next. When he got to a corner, he peered around the edge quickly, scanning the scene, then hugged the wall as he turned down the next stretch. Whoever he was, he wasn't meant to be there.

There was something familiar to those furtive movements: the paranoid edge but calm efficiency in execution. He disappeared out of the screen she was watching, and the next camera gave her a close top down view of his face. She let out a small cry and sat back. She looked fearfully up at Kazuya.

Kazuya had a cigarette in his mouth and clicked on a lighter. The naked flame let out a slip of light in the dark, illuminating the hard line of his jaw, then it was gone again. Kazuya pocketed the lighter and looked down at her. He breathed out smoke that shimmered in the unnatural monitor glow.

"Your friend's got himself in quite deep. Breaking and entering without a warrant? Armed? And I believe he doesn't even have Japanese citizenship. This isn't going to end well for him."

Jun's heart picked up pace. She turned back to the CCTV footage. Lei Wulong had reached a door at the end of the corridor.

"Boss, that's the door to staircase F. How do you want us to proceed? I don't want to lose any men on this, so if you'd let me take a clean shot-"

"No!" Jun exclaimed. She turned to Kazuya. "Don't. Please." His face was impassive, half lost in amidst the smoke of his cigarette. "You-… He's with Interpol. It would be an international scandal if you shot a police officer on duty." Rational sentences weren't coming to her very easily. She curled her fingers into fists.

Kazuya blew out a stream of smoke.

"I hear he's not very popular with the Tokyo Met Police. They'd probably thank me if he was killed in the line of duty. If it goes to court, I know a judge who'll be all to happy to rule in my favour."

"Kazuya, please…" Jun couldn't believe she was hearing this. "Can't you just ask him to leave?"

"I'm not sending people out there to face him down with a gun," Bruce snapped. "I told you who this guy is, didn't I, Boss? He's like a fucking bulldog. Sinks his teeth in and doesn't let go. He followed me across countries trying to hunt me down like an animal. As if I wanted that plane to go down. As if his idiot partner dying was my fault."

"What?" Jun turned to Bruce.

"Your buddy cop here had a partner before you. He holds me personally responsible for his partner's death. He's been trying for years to get hold of a case that will take him to Japan, take him to the Zaibatsu." Bruce turned to Kazuya. "This is my fault. He wouldn't have got this far if he weren't on my trail. Let me finish this for you and I'll finally put a bullet in this nightmare chase."

"Lei isn't…" Jun shook her head. "Lei isn't doing this try and get back at you! This isn't about revenge! He's trying to build a case. He's on an official Interpol assignment building a case on animal mistreatment. You don't know for sure that he-… that he hasn't got a warrant."

"Yes, we fucking do," Bruce retorted. A sharp look from Kazuya made him temper his tone though. "What kind of idiot comes in alone to a Mishima lab, no back up, no nothing, just a gun in his hand. No paperwork, no cop cars, no buddies. This guy's on a suicide mission and he sure as hell isn't here legally."

"Let me go and speak with him." Jun turned to Kazuya.

"Too risky," Kazuya said around his cigarette. "He sees movement, he'll probably open fire. He's jittery, look at the way he moves. He's scared. As he should be. Prepare a strike team."

Jun stood. Kazuya took a step back. She fixed him with a look.

"You brought me here, didn't you?" she said quietly. "What for, if not for this?"

He scowled,

"So that you could see the circumstances under which this had to be done. I'm minding my own fucking business, and your out-of-order, corner-cutting cop partner is the one straight out of line." She stepped closed to him. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and held it at arm's length so that she didn't have to breathe in the smoke. "I'm not sending you in there."

"Try and stop me." Kazuya's eyebrows raised as she said that. "Now what direction and am I going in."

Kazuya cursed softly. He stubbed out his cigarette on a desk.

"Get her a bulletproof vest."

"I'm not going in a bulletproof vest. I'm going in my own clothes."

"You'll put that vest on if you want anywhere near that corridor," he growled.

She moved to survey a wall just behind him with floor plans and blueprints on it. She was silent for a moment.

"Right. I know where I'm going. Stay here. And don't follow me or open fire."

Kazuya caught her arm as she made to leave.

"Jun. Don't," he said, but this time his voice was different. There was a pleading note in it. She held his gaze for a moment, then tugged free. "Fuck." She heard him say as she strode off. "Get a team together and position them in staircase G." The rest of his orders were lost to her as she moved further away.

From the floor plans, Jun had seen she didn't have far to walk. It was just a matter of navigating to the corridor Wulong was going to come up on when he got to this level. She didn't want to creep up behind him. Kazuya had been right, he did look jittery in that footage. _What if Bruce was right too? What if this is all some revenge spree for Lei? _Either way, he didn't deserve to die. She took a deep breath and hurried on. The corridors were much the same as the ones she'd passed through when they first entered – closed doors and window-less. Some of the corridors weren't even air-conditioned, and the walk quickly became hot and claustrophobic – empty of sunlight or fresh air. A musty, stuffy smell lingered like a fine layer of dust. The only sound was her footsteps echoing about the empty concrete, and her breath raspy and fast. Perhaps this hadn't been her wisest decision.

She reached a door at the end of the corridor bordered in steel. A swipe card panel was next to it. She tugged at the door. It didn't budge. She glanced up at the nearest CCTV camera and scowled. A buzzing noise came from the door, and this time when she pushed it, it opened. She stepped through, and was very aware of the loud click it made as it locked behind her. She was in a stairwell now. Staircase G, in fact, the one that was shortly to be filled with Mishima armed guards. She took a deep breath. The stairwell was almost black. After a few moments though, a light fizzed on, and gave her a dim view of bleak grey steps and steel railings. There was something faintly reassuring about the idea that Kazuya was watching her through the security cameras.

There was one other door on the same level as her. She put her hand on its handle, then put her ear to the door, trying to listen for Wulong's footsteps. Nothing. She swallowed down her hammering pulse and pushed open the door an inch. She peered through. Still nothing. There was a corner at the end of the stretch before her though, obscuring the length of the corridor beyond.

She slipped in.

The first thing that hit her was the smell. It smelt like the old farms she passed at home. Manure and fresh straw. A pungent smell that years of country living eventually transforms from unpleasant, to ordinary, even a little refreshing and reminiscent of home. It was jarring to smell it here. There was air-conditioning too. A light breeze was against her skin. There were wide perspex windows lining the corridor, letting in bright light – not natural light – but still welcome after the flickering buzz of the strip lighting from before. Her curiosity overcame her nerves and she peered through the glass. She swallowed and forgot to breathe.

The window was set high up, looking down into a large, white tiled facility that occupied both this floor and the floor below. In the room were two cages. One was open, and a group of six personnel stood with electric batons, prodding an enormous grizzly bear toward the open cage door. The animal stood well over six-foot, with thick, brown, matted fur and long, black claws. Its head was tossing, its maw drooling, its paws swiping at the humans around it. The creature opened huge jaws, snarling in a roar that never permeated the perspex. Jolting batons bowed the animal until it backed into the cage and a door was swung shut. The bear snapped at the bars but shied from the flashing batons, flinching back when they clanged off steel.

Jun put her hand to her mouth. A sudden wave of nausea passed through her. She stood staring at the beast, watching the way it retreated to the far corner of it's cage, teeth flashing in a bared snarl, hackles raised, talons spread. Her lower lip trembled and she swallowed. She stayed silent, watching the fear and distress in its body language. She felt with it the confusion and terror of being taken out of a world, green and vast, where one could roam wherever one wished, only to end up confined by walls and bars and cruelty. She put her hand to the glass and closed her eyes. She felt the vibrations of the beasts roaring, and the dregs of its snatched feelings sifting through the distance: pain, loneliness, desperation. She opened her eyes and looked down into the room. The bear was peering up, and for a moment, it seemed as though it was looking at her. Then it went back to snapping and snarling at the handlers about its cage. Jun watched for few moments more, then moved dream-like to the next window along.

The next window looked down into a facility housing a line of cages, each holding kangaroos in various stages of ill health. Most were sitting hunched up wearily in the corner of their cages: fur patchy, heads hung low, ears twitching restlessly. Jun stared at them. She'd never seen a kangaroo in the flesh before. Their powerful legs and lean arms would have been such a captivating sight, but to see them like this – in cages too small, devoid of one another's company, with no access to darkness, food, water, bedding… Jun's fingers balled into tight fists at her sides.

The next window held long tables filled with microscopes and rock samples and nuggets of amber that winked like fire under the artificial lighting. As Jun watched she saw an old man in a white lab coat move slowly from one table to another. The high angle didn't give her a clear view, but her eye was drawn to two armed guards dressed head to toe in black, complete with balaclavas and assault rifles in hand that were following his every step. She pushed her face against the glass to get a better look. The old man was reaching unsteadily for his equipment. As he held up a test-tube, she could see a dark black eye swelled up large, covering most of his face, and a cut across his forehead caked with dried blood. She stared at him.

"K-Kazama?" Jun whirled round. Lei Wulong stood before her. He held a handgun before him. He was lowering it now. "What are you doing here? Are you here alone? Fuck," he said, leaning in to see what she saw. "Got an APB that matches that guy. Russian doctor. Had no idea he was in here though. I mean I thought Mishima might be involved, but I never would have pegged him being here. You were right on chasing the animal mistreatment by the way. In the end it was one of the easiest ways into their illegal activity. I've got them now for sure. The experimentation, the smuggling, and now fucking kidnapping. If I can get that doctor out, I bet I can get him to ID one Bruce Irvin who orchestrated the raid. He's always been Mishima's right hand for this kind of thing."

Jun couldn't speak. She felt sick. Of all the things that had happened in the last few minutes, the only thing she managed to say aloud was:

"But you're trying to build a case against the Zaibatsu, aren't you? Not just Bruce Irvin."

"Sure, sure." Wulong was eyeing up the lab below them, trying to assess its layout. "This is going to rock the Zaibatsu for good. With ties like theirs, I doubt I'll actually get Mishima or his brother behind bars, but Bruce fucking Irvin is going in the slammer for sure." Jun was silent. Wulong turned to her. "So what are you doing here? Did you decide to do some digging after all? I never really took you for one to give up on a case. I could feel it – a kindred spirit – once you get a whiff of the truth you just have to keep digging. But you should have come to me first. This place mostly empty, but I've seen a lot of cameras about. I could have got you a firearm before you came out here. This is dangerous fucking stuff, Kazama."

"Do you have a warrant?"

Wulong raised his eyebrows at her,

"A warrant? For this place? Are you kidding me? They wouldn't issue a warrant for here even if a thousand mutant freak animals bust out the gates and mauled half of Tokyo. Mishima's got this place on lockdown. Police don't ask so they don't have to see. This is a blacksite as far as they're concerned."

"But… Lei, that's illegal."

He rolled his eyes,

"Well, no shit its illegal, Kazama. You must have realised that when you…" He trailed off. He looked at her properly for the first time and swallowed. His hands tightened on his gun. "You didn't-… You didn't break in here." She shook her head. Wulong glanced up nervously at the security cameras. "You're-… You're here with _him_," he whispered. There was a very real fear in his voice. Jun had never felt more abhorrent before, never felt less like a human being. She nodded very slowly. She could see Wulong's chest start to move more rapidly. He swallowed again. "He-… He knows I'm here." She nodded.

"He was going to have you shot," she said quietly. "He said… you had no warrant. That you're trespassing. That you were on a revenge mission to get at Bruce Irvin… for killing your partner."

"Don't listen to him, Kazama. We're the fucking good guys here. Look down there! Look at what they're doing. They're working way beyond the bounds of the law. That doctor. And those animals. There's live animals back down that corridor, and I bet there's more further up. This is what you _came_ to Tokyo for! No one would believe us when we said we could crack open the Zaibatsu. But we're here – you and me – we've got their dirty laundry all ready to air!"

"You said Bruce Irvin was wanted for homicide. You said he was wanted for killing a police officer."

"Okay, yes. Bruce Irvin killed my last partner, and I'm pretty pissed that he escaped justice and I've got some hang-ups about working with other people because of that. But you were different, Kazama – you were the first person I could work with who got me! It was like having my old partner back again. And you taught me to make a straight case again – follow the evidence and not my vendetta. I'm here because of you! Look down there!" He pointed his gun at the lab window next to them. "That doctor is looking at my fossils, Kazama. My fucking Siberian fossils. And he's doing it in a corridor for fucking _gene_ splicing. This is my Jurassic Park theory right here! Right under our noses. I'm so close. I'm so fucking close."

She looked at him.

"They're coming with armed guards, Lei. I said I was going to talk you down so that no one got shot. Give me the gun, and I promise you won't be hurt."

He shook his head, disgust and confusion on his face.

"Kazama,… this isn't you. He's a fucking monster. Look at what he's _doing_ to people down there! Not just animals, Kazama, _people_. He's got that guy locked up in that lab under armed guards. Plucked him straight out of fucking _Russia. _He's not _worth_ you time, let alone your protection."

"I'm not protecting him, Lei. I'm protecting you. Give me your gun. I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Not a chance. They're not going to let me go after I've seen this, Kazama. If I lower my weapon they're going to shoot me."

"They won't. I promise you."

"You can make those kind of promises? You can make those kind of promises and Mishima Kazuya will keep them?"

She nodded firmly,

"Yes."

He closed his eyes.

"Then I'm sorry, Kazama, I truly am." He raised his gun and pointed it at her head. "Come out where I can see you!" he shouted.

Jun stared at him.

The door to stairwell behind Jun creaked open and half a dozen armed guards came in. Bruce Irvin was first in line. He winced at something coming over his earpiece.

"Lower your weapons, lower your weapons," Bruce ordered the guards about him, lowering his own rifle as he did.

Wulong gave Jun a grimace and there was sorrow in his eyes.

"Mishima Kazuya really does care for you then."

* * *

**Author Note: **Thanks for all your reviews and support. Sorry for toying with all your emotions last chapter only to throw you into more action in this one and leave you on a cliffhanger.

To those leaving comments on here and on Ao3 - thanks so much - I love reading all your thoughts and analysis as you pull apart the mess that is Kazuya and his warped attempts at emotion and care!

_Tifanny91: _Absolutely he's overprotective and possessive. I'm glad that's coming through. People he cares about have a habit of dying and vanishing, and he can't quite believe that despite having power, wealth, and the Zaibatsu, he still can't keep people he cares for from danger. He digs his claws in to keep them close to him, not realising he's suffocating them and driving them away from him in his efforts to not lose them.

_ThalieXVII: _Yes, I wanted to show that Lee keeps caring for people he loved, even if he has little interest in staying with any one person. His mistrust of people and desire not to let them get too close ends up becoming something of a poison to those who can't handle him though, so that in the end, it's Heihachi's lack of affection toward Lee that is somehow still the ultimate source behind the dead end that Takumi ends up in. (Kaz wants people close to him, so drags them screaming into his toxic, possessive cocoon: people want to be close to Lee, but he keeps them at arm's length and burns the bridge between them if they keep trying to cling to him.)

_LiberDose: _Sorry for distressing you! Yes in the midst of all chapter 11's ugliness, we did get Jun's sliding in a love confession. Whilst writing this story, I looked for lots of opportunities to put in one-on-one combat to get more of that Tekken game feel, but it turns out the day-to-day running of a corporation doesn't actually lend itself to many fights! I was all ready to give Kaz a brutal beating-Takumi-up scene, but it felt much more powerful just to have the threat of violence, just to have it with his words alone. Kaz is a violent guy, but above all he loves power, and getting someone to do the dirty work themselves is much more of a power trip for him, and much more convenient for keeping his company in the clean... But yes, nasty stuff, I apologise!


	13. Over the Edge

There weren't many times in Kazuya's life when he'd been frightened. Most of those times had been in his early childhood. Not his very early childhood – fractional images of his grandfather fixing his form, or his mother taking his hand to show him round the gardens, like flashes from another world: those were always sacred, and he left them untouched and unopened like an offering at an alter.

The fears came after that. When Heihachi had killed everything worthwhile in his life. The narrow window between his mother's death and Chaolan's arrival – perhaps four years or so, from the age of five until nine. Those were the really dark years. The years where he'd learned to embrace something darker within himself to counter the constant fear. Sometimes he still dreamed of them. Moments when he was too small, too powerless. They weren't really distinct memories. More like dread feelings and recollections. The feeling of looking up, and seeing how tall his father was, how impossibly unbeatable he looked, how strong his hand was when he beat him down. That panicking feeling that he couldn't grow up fast enough. That to be young was to be weak.

There were moments after then too. Mostly moments when he was worried that Chaolan wasn't going to get back up, and he'd be left alone in this hellhole again.

But that all seemed pale compared to now.

He was running through the corridors of his own laboratory, slamming doors open, and shedding his long leather jacket as he ran. He could feel the smokey curl of anger and fear swarming his body like an old friend rising to greet him. _Not now. I've got this under control. I've got this._ He stumbled. He caught himself and leaned heavily against a concrete slab wall. He looked at his hand. The veins were pulsing purple under his skin. He ground his teeth. He glanced up. To his right a security camera leered down at him. He crouched, then sprung up suddenly, catching the thing with a twisting upper cut. It shattered as it hit the floor. He looked at his fist. It was a discoloured, bluish purple. He opened his fingers and saw long black talons extending from where nails should have been. _I can do this alone._ _I can do this alone. _He took a few unsteady breaths, calming himself. When he looked back at his hand it was his again. He took another deep breath, then started running.

When he reached corridor where he'd last seen Jun, it was empty. He skidded to a stop in a sea of assault rifles lying on the floor all around him. He could feel the darkness crawling through his chest again. He flung open the stairwell door and leaned over, frantically looking up and down. He heard distant boots from below. He tore down the steps. The metallic clang of his boots against steel lit sparks in the darkened stairway. He hit the ground and ripped open a fire escape. The door came off by its hinges. He threw it behind him. Sunlight blared strong in his face. Before him was the concrete stretch between the lab and the perimeter wall. Six Zaibatsu guards had their backs to him, and their hands on their heads. Bruce Irvin was kneeling on the ground. Across from him was Lei Wulong with a gun still pressed to Jun's temple.

"Slide your radio across the floor," Wulong was saying. "_Slowly!_" He was absorbed in trying to micromanage the soldiers in front of him.

Only Kazama Jun was looking at Kazuya. The look on her face was stunned. That was understandable, he decided, she'd just been abducted and was being held at gun point. He tilted his head, appraising how best to tear into this situation. His tail twitched as he regarded the scene. He flexed his shoulders, giving his wings a chance to stretch.

He stopped very still. He turned his hands slowly towards him, they were monstrous, taloned, chitinous and smouldering with an internal fire. _Fuck. _He could feel his control slipping. He looked Jun straight in the eye with panic blazing from his thoughts. He thought of Chaolan curled in the corner of the dojo and how close he'd come to killing his own brother. He thought of what he might wake up to if he lost control now. He swallowed as drowning anger stormed through his limbs. He struggled to hold onto himself.

He saw a resolve settle on Jun's features. She pulled her elbow back and rammed it hard into Wulong's nose, then chopped with the side of her hand straight into the join of his knuckle, sending the gun in his hand flying. She put one leg behind his and back fisted him in the face, sending him sprawling over her leg. She grabbed his arm before he could right himself on the floor, locked the joint straight, turned him onto his front, planted a knee on his back and took him into a standard arrest position. Then she looked up at Kazuya.

Bruce Irvin had gone straight for the gun and the other Zaibatsu guards rushed to help restrain Wulong.

Kazuya kept his gaze firmly intertwined with Jun's, drawing strength from the still pool of calm she emitted in the coursing confusion in his body. He fought down the torrents of rage streaming through him, distilling control from that level peace that Jun shone at him through the dark crevices of his mind.

He gradually felt himself return. And suddenly it was like he was dropping a ten tonne weight. His muscles were sapped of strength. He dropped to one knee, and he noticed the way his shirt fluttered. It was in shreds. He looked up as Jun walked towards him, relieved from holding down Wulong by the Zaibatsu guards. She came and knelt by Kazuya. He watched her uncertainly, unsure what it meant that she'd seen this. She reached out a hand and cupped his face. He met her eyes with a slow trepidation. Her thumb brushed his cheek. Her expression was gentle, serene, all the things he didn't deserve. He closed his eyes and took a long shuddering breath, enjoying the soothing repetitive brush of her hand on his cheek.

"Boss?! Are you-… Is everything okay? What happened? You look like shit!"

Kazuya stood abruptly, tall and proud again.

"I'm fine. Gets some proper restraints on Agent Lei. Fetch me a phone. And a new suit."

Bruce frowned for a moment, then nodded, bowed once and hurried to oversee Kazuya's demands.

There was a flurry of movement as his guards carried out his wishes. Kazuya felt back in control. All was right in the world. He looked down at his hand, turning it over. He curled it into a fist. He ran a finger from the back of his knuckle down his forearm, then turned his arm over, tracing the line of a vein. All human. All normal. He looked down at Jun, still crouched on the ground. He couldn't meet her gaze, so he instead held his head high and narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the movement about him, all unfolding according to his orders.

* * *

Jun sat down next to Wulong. They both had their backs against the whitewashed concrete perimeter wall. They had an expansive view of the empty yard and the ominous block of the Zaibatsu laboratory standing in the middle. The afternoon shadows were lengthening and they were both sweating in the heat and humidity.

Wulong's nose was bleeding and he was squinting through his right eye which had puffed up purple from the backhand Jun had given him. He sniffed and spat out a globule of blood. He lifted his bound wrists and wiped blood from his nose with difficulty on the back of his arm.

"Didn't know you could fight," he admitted.

"I'm the head of the Kazama Ryu Kobujutsu style."

"Oh." Wulong sniffed again. "You never told me."

"You never asked."

There was a silence broken only by the back and forth of Zaibatsu guards and Kazuya's pacing as he spoke on a mobile phone.

"If you'd let me take you all the way out at gun point, we could have arrested them. We could have at least got Bruce Irvin behind bars."

"Perhaps."

"I wouldn't have actually shot you, you know that right, Kazama?"

"I know."

"Did you have to throw it like that? Throw it all? They're probably going to finish me off as soon as you're gone."

"Kazuya is calling the Police Superintendent-General. The police will be here soon."

"Yeah, sorry if I'm not celebrating just yet. I've got a file this thick of people who've stood up to the Zaibatsu and died under mysterious circumstances in police custody." His voice was heavy with despair and defeat. "I don't understand it, Kazama. I don't understand. What's your end game here? You saw what was inside that lab. You know who these people are. Don't tell me you're still trying to pull that saviour shit? Why've you got to be like this? Why can't you be the saviour for that Russian doctor, or for those fucking… kangaroos, or for _me_. For _anyone_ but Mishima Kazuya. The world's full of people who need a little bit of compassion, a little bit of time, a little bit of care from someone like you. And so many of those people weren't born to wealth and privilege and power. Why can't you go and help someone who's got nothing?"

Jun stood. She stretched and tugged at the collar of her sticking shirt.

"He is someone who's got nothing."

She wandered into the long afternoon shadows that striped the courtyard orange and brown.

* * *

Kazuya sat in his office staring at the paperwork in front of him. He'd been trying to read it for the last fifteen minutes, but kept staring at the same sentence over and over. His mind was a mess of the happenings in the last week. His temper was more frayed than usual and he was struggling with his workload without Chaolan to help him. He'd expected his brother to take just a couple of days off, but it had been nearly a week now. He was reluctant to summon him back, because a very small part of him was worried Chaolan might not come if he demanded it. Of course, Kazuya would then fly to Seoul and drag him back himself but, it wouldn't be pretty and then it would be another week before Chaolan stopped blanking him, and Jun was sure to get wind of it as well, and give him that silent disapproving look. No, it would be better if Chaolan came back on his own.

Then his mind was on Jun. She hadn't spoken to him since the incident with her old partner at the laboratory. He'd shouldn't have taken her there. At the time it had seemed like a good way to show her that Lei Wulong was in the wrong, and to justify the violence he'd intended to do to the man without earning her fury. He should have known that wouldn't be the way things would work out. And why the fuck had he let her walk around the one lab he'd always meant to hide from her? She was always going on about how much she loved stupid animals. Why did she have to-… He kneaded his knuckle into his temple as he felt another headache coming on. How much had she seen? How many labs did that corridor overlook? Kazuya vaguely recalled running down it, but he had been preoccupied by all his security forces' weapons on the floor and the fact that his fingers were growing six-inch talons. Fuck. She'd seen that too. She'd seen what he could become… when he lost control. Was that why she hadn't spoken to him in days? Would she ever want to speak to him again? Or should he be calling her? He had been dreading what she'd say if he called. It was the coward's choice to sit there staring at the telephone instead.

He wished Chaolan was here. He'd had so many boyfriends and girlfriends since Kazuya had killed Heihachi. It irritated Kazuya that his brother had a new romantic partner every time he blinked, but one of the rules he'd tried to set himself to stop himself drifting into Heihachi's ways was always to let Chaolan live how he pleased. When Heihachi had been alive, Chaolan would confine himself to gazing longingly at beautiful people, at people who were liberal with their touch and affection, at people who didn't have a brutal, Mishima attitude towards contact with other human beings. Kazuya refused to let himself become the sort of person who stopped his brother sleeping with whomever he liked. _Instead I've taken to executing the lovers that can't keep their mouth shut. _It hadn't occurred to him before that perhaps the reason Heihachi had been so controlling of their personal lives was precisely so that he didn't have to resort to methods like that. Kazuya put that from his mind. There was no way he was worse than Mishima Heihachi had been.

He sighed and put his head in his hands. Chaolan would know the right thing to do. He'd know what to say to make it alright with Jun.

The phone on his desk rang. It had been ringing ten times more than usual in the last week without Chaolan to sift out all the inconsequential calls. He ignored it. He pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes and watched the different flavours of blackness it pulled before his vision. When the phone stopped ringing he sat back. He pulled open a desk draw and drew out a cigarette case. He put the cigarette in his mouth and flicked open an engraved lighter. The flame kept dying before he could get it to the cigarette. Then his intercom buzzer went. He slammed his finger down on it and spoke around his cigarette.

"_What?_"

"Mr Mishima, I apologise for interrupting you. I tried to call you just now. This is reception. Miss Kazama is here to see you."

Kazuya stopped trying to light the cigarette and hastily took it out his mouth.

"Send her up." He put the cigarette and lighter back in his draw and stood. He did up his waistcoat and went to the mirror. He smoothed back his hair and rolled down his sleeves. He experimented with doing his top button up, but it didn't look right without a tie. Fuck. He walked around his office in small circles. Fuck fuck fuck.

All too quickly there was the sound of the door to his brother's office opening. Kazuya quickly opened his own door. Jun was dominating the monochrome palette again today. Simple black leggings, a white sleeveless shirt, a white headband pulling dark hair out of those intriguing, mysterious eyes. He dodged her gaze and stood back, holding the door open for her. She came in and moved toward the chair opposite his desk, where she'd sat as she interrogated him.

"We can talk here." He gestured to a more comfortable set up on the far side of his office – low couches, a coffee table, and a drinks cabinet. She nodded and went and perched on the edge of one of the couches. Kazuya hesitated, uncomfortable for the first time in his own office. "Can I get you anything? Drinks? Breakfast?"

"No, thank-you."

"Tea?"

"No, thank-you."

He could feel nerves in his stomach. He came and sat down opposite her in a large red leather armchair. He crossed one leg over the other and set his elbows onto the armrests, trying to claw back some of his cool. He'd just settled on a the right way to ask how she was when she spoke before he could.

"I'm leaving Tokyo."

Something cold descended in him. He felt suddenly alone and isolated and like the things he was familiar with had all become unreachable spots of light high up in a dark chamber. A bit like the day he realised his mother was never going to walk through the square wooden rooms of his home again, and his grandfather would no longer be ruffling his hair and telling him how quickly he'd grown, and all the things that made his life stable that he'd come to rely on had been swept out from underneath him.

He swallowed and tried to control all the initial reactions. When he knew his voice was level and his spitfire emotions were under control, he spoke.

"I thought you planned on staying in Tokyo for a while?"

She looked at him. He couldn't tell what was going on behind her expression.

"The situation has changed."

He kept his expressions perfectly schooled. He'd had a lifetime's practice at hiding when things inside hurt. He needed to make this right now if he didn't want to lose her forever.

"About what you saw at the lab-" She shifted in her seat but he kept talking quickly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. Those experiments. The animals I'm keeping there. It's-… I'm doing extensive research into gene therapy and gene splicing. It's all related to my… condition. The corners I'm cutting aren't exactly legal… or moral. But as you saw, my circumstances are somewhat extreme." That was an excuse. He was making excuses to her. Her face was impassive. "Not that that makes it alright. And I should have told you. I mean… the only time I really lied to you about it was when you were still working in your capacity as a police officer. If you'd asked me after that…" More excuses. He interlocked his fingers for want of anything better to do with them. "As soon as I've learned what it is that's inside me, I'm going to cut all those research programmes. I just need to know what's in my blood and how to control it. Once that's done, all of those more… questionable experiments will be stopped."

He paused, giving her the space to say something. He hoped his expression didn't give away any of the desperation he felt inside. There was silence. Eventually she let out a heavy breath.

"This isn't about that."

He couldn't keep the confusion from his face.

"It… it isn't?"

It was her turn to look a little uncomfortable.

"My… financial situation is no longer tenable. I'm going back to Yakushima for a while. And after that, perhaps Wakayama in the autumn if my old work are still happy to take me."

Kazuya's eyes narrowed,

"Financial situation? I don't follow. What is it? Trouble with your work?"

"I don't have any work."

He stared at her. Exactly how long had she not had work? Since she dropped the case for him? Had she really not found anything in all that time and not told him?

"If the police aren't giving you new cases, I can speak with-"

"I don't want you to speak with anyone on my behalf."

"I thought you were looking into other work in Tokyo. That you had places in mind that-"

"My old precinct didn't take kindly to me leaving or to my reasons for leaving. They've made it difficult for me to find work elsewhere." Anger sparked in Kazuya's face. "And I don't want you interfering with that. The accusation that I'm too close to you isn't helped if you start strong-arming people into reviewing my situation."

Kazuya's nostrils flared and he could feel outrage growing inside him.

"That isn't how this works! This whole city is a give and take arrangement. There are no _proper_ procedures; there's people manipulating things in the direction they wish. Nothing more. And someone's been seriously manipulating things against you if you haven't been able to work because of this. Why didn't you tell me? I could have straightened this out in a second! I can put in a call right now-" He made to rise from his chair, but she fixed him with a look.

"I said I don't _want_ your help." Her voice was firm.

He sunk slowly back into his chair. He was frustrated and confused, but he needed to control himself. This wasn't the worst situation. If this was all just about money, he could still fix this.

"There are plenty of positions at the Zaibatsu," he offered.

"I don't want to work at the Zaibatsu."

"If it's a case of covering rent or something-"

"Kazuya," she interrupted. Her eyes were sharp and dark.

"Let me cover it." He could feel his temper starting to rise. "I'll buy the apartment for you. I'll buy whole apartment block. I've got hundreds of empty apartments in the city. You can just _have_ one. What's the big deal? Why won't you let me do this? It's the one thing I can actually solve!" His voice was getting louder.

"I don't want that."

"Why not?!" his eyes flashed. "Is this to do with the Zaibatsu? You think my money is tainted or something? As if all money isn't. The things I could tell you about those in power in this country – in _any _country. The world isn't as innocent as you want to believe it is-"

"I didn't say anything about the Zaibatsu. I just said I don't want to receive anything like that from you."

"Why?! What the hell is wrong with you? I can fix this and then you can stay in Tokyo!" He pulled himself suddenly up from his chair, restless and irritated and smouldering anger making his fingers twitch. "Do you want me to say it? Is that it? I want you to stay. There. I said it. I want you to stay in Tokyo with me."

She was still serene and calm. It annoyed him.

"Sometimes we don't always get what we want."

His lip tugged up into half a snarl. He controlled himself and came round the back of his armchair. He gripped its back and locked eyes with her.

"I've got the resources to let you stay. Why won't you let me help?"

She took another deep breath, and he felt small, like he was missing something that was very obvious, like he was about to be lectured like a child.

"Because favours and money are your currency of power, Kazuya, and I don't want that kind of relationship with you."

He stopped, finally at a loss at what to say. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. His fingers clenched the leather of the armchair tighter. He tried to work around all the things churning inside him. It was slowly dawning on him that he _wasn't_ going to be able to fix this.

"It wouldn't be like that." His voice was quieter. For the first time he was gaining a glimpse of the window through which she saw him, of the kind of imbalance that existed between them. For all the struggles he'd put up with in his life, there were still some struggles that would remain an enigma to him and that he'd never experience. "I only want to help. It's within my power to make things better. Let me help. Please." He hung his arms loosely over the back of the armchair. Couldn't she see that this wasn't all for her? That he needed this? That he needed her? He set his teeth together.

"If you really want to be with me, then come with me."

He stared at her.

"Come… with you? To _Yakushima?"_

"Yes."

He could feel his irritation sliding back.

"I can't just up and go to Yakushima. I have a business to run. And Chaolan isn't even fucking here to help." She looked at him and for the first time in the exchange he could see her emotions creeping through. There was a sadness in her eyes. "Stay here in Tokyo. I'll help you find whatever work you want, we'll do it together. I'll make sure it's all above board, all honest. I won't intimidate anyone into giving it to you. If the police try to get involved, I'll file a law suit – in my name –" he added, "straightening out any erroneous facts. We can make this work."

She was still looking at him with that sadness. He wished she would stop. He was surprised to hear some of the firm decisiveness leave her voice, and for the first time she sounded vulnerable.

"But I want to go to Yakushima…" He came back around and sat himself down opposite her. He wanted to take her hand in his and make that wretched tone in her voice disappear. He clasped his hands together instead and frowned slightly, leaving space for her to continue. She looked away. "I haven't been home in so long. And living in the city-… I feel… drained. Like there hasn't been anything beautiful or peaceful around me in so long. I feel like… I don't belong here. Like I'm trespassing. Like I don't know who I am and what I'm doing."

He reached out and touched his fingertips to hers. She didn't draw away, but neither did she reciprocate.

"That's just the stress of being out of work getting to you. It'll be different when you don't have to worry about that."

She still looked distant. And not just distant, he realised. Sort of thin, and harrowed, with shadows to her that hadn't been there when they first met. Her skin had lost some of it's lustre, and that bubbling enthusiasm was gone from her eyes. Had he done this? Was this what being close to him had done to her?

"I want to go back to Yakushima. And walk among the trees. I want to smell the mountains. And feel thunderstorms again."

And suddenly the monochrome colours she was wearing didn't look like an artful choice, but like she was fading in a world where she didn't belong.

"But the Zaibatsu," he started, hesitantly. She didn't look at him, or say anything. Her shoulders sunk wearily and she looked very tired. "Alright." His voice was quiet. "Alright. I'll go with you to Yakushima. I'll need a few weeks to put my affairs in order. When Chaolan gets back from Seoul we can-"

"I booked my train ticket for tomorrow." Irritation flashed through him again, but it vanished when she turned back to him, all simple and open and quiet spoken. "I put aside the price of a train ticket and the ferry. So that when my savings ran out, I could still go home." She looked away again. The helplessness in her voice was infuriating and heart-wrenching all at the same time.

"I… I can't leave that soon," he explained.

"Then I will see you when you can come," she said slowly, rising from her seat. "If you decide to come, that is." She walked herself to the door. There was something ethereal about the movement, like she wasn't quite there.

Kazuya got up too. He wanted to go to her and hold her. But he could feel that that wasn't right. His heart was pounding.

"Jun, I don't want you to go."

She gave him a small smile, but still walked out the door.

* * *

**Author Note: **Thanks very much for the reviews and comments from people old and new! Reading them is the highlight of my week :) A slightly shorter chapter this week, but an important one for Kazuya in understanding Jun and understanding his own privilege. Also the first time we see Jun allow herself to be a little more vulnerable around him. Thank you again for reading! As a forewarning, there will be some sex + nudity in this story, though in keeping with the tone of the story and not explicit. This website doesn't allow for tags, so I encourage you to go and check the tags on Archive of Our Own (perhaps a little late to advise this as we're over halfway through the story).


	14. Confronting Demons

Chaolan pressed his finger to the scanner and watched a laser sweep over the print. He typed in a code and then opened the door hesitantly. He peered into the apartment. It was dark. Warnings curled in the pit of his stomach.

He stepped in and closed the door behind him. Moonlight came sideways through a twisted blind in a room before him. A full length mirror on the wall had been shattered. Black cracks ran through it like a cobweb. Something that looked suspiciously like burn marks streaked in a smouldering line across the hallway, stopping at an open door, then continuing on the other side. Chaolan touched his forearms in recollection.

He let out a slow breath. He walked carefully through the darkened apartment. He paused when his footsteps crunched. Fragments of glass and broken ceramics littered the floor. Chaolan swallowed. As his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom he saw an over turned sofa to his right and the remains of a bureau splintered in two on his left. Framed before by the chill moonlight was a high-backed armchair. A black silhouette sat in the chair, legs apart, arms lying on the rests.

Chaolan attempted a quiver of a smile.

"Managing alright without me, big brother?" Chaolan's eyes flicked over the wreckage of the apartment. He was beginning to wish he'd gone straight home, and left talking to Kazuya until the morning. It would be worse if he arrived back in Tokyo without telling him though.

"You've been gone two weeks." Kazuya's voice was so cold it send a ripple of fear straight through Chaolan's spine. He tried to not to let on the effect it had.

"I haven't taken a vacation in all the time I've worked for you. I think I earned this one." There was silence. Chaolan knew he'd been pushing his luck staying away for so long, but relishing the air that was free of Kazuya's overpowering presence had proved too much of a temptation. "I'm back now though," he added. "And… I'm ready to get back to work. Ready to… forget any prior disagreements, if you are." He hoped Kazuya would take this. The fury he'd felt over Takumi's death had pushed him to just pick up a suitcase and go. He knew he couldn't hold his tongue in front of Kazuya with that much anger and hate inside him. Kazuya seemed to have realised too, and had made no effort to stop him.

"Over there on the table." Kazuya pointed a finger that came up pale, lit by the fractured lighting beyond the cracked blinds. Chaolan couldn't see a table, but he picked his way through the debris in the direction ordered. He found a single upright table in the corner. It was spread with files and photographs. He felt around until he found a switch for a desk light. A small pool of light lit the table and its scattered paperwork. At first it was hard to make head nor tail of what he was being shown, but gradually he began to understand. His hands shook slightly.

"You've… uh… been busy. And not just with the interior decorating." He passed his tongue over his lips. He looked up at his brother but he couldn't see anything but darkness amidst the arms of the chair. "Are-… are all these people dead?"

There was a quiet. Chaolan kept looking in the direction he assumed Kazuya was. The darkness stirred slightly.

"I cleaned up some loose ends for a number of our business associates."

Chaolan swallowed.

"Kaz,… there are a lot of hits here. All over the world. This… isn't our usual method of operating."

"You weren't here." That was accusatory. Chaolan tried not to let his voice rise.

"I wasn't here – so you went on a killing spree? These deaths weren't even necessary for our business plans, we-"

"-have the assured loyalty of a number of allies now."

"Allies like-" Chaolan picked up one of the sheets, "some drug cartel in _Brazil_?" The darkness shifted again. "Kaz, come on. This isn't us. This isn't how we operate. Kidnapping and assassinations? It wasn't even like this under-"

There was a whirl of material and suddenly Kazuya was very much visible, coat fanning out behind him as he stalked forward and came to a stop an inch away from Chaolan's face. His eyes were terrible and his scarred face was all twisted into hate.

"Wasn't like this under _who_?" he dared, his breath a hiss.

Chaolan took a step back, spread placating hands and dropped his gaze deferentially.

"Kaz,… let's get back to working on what you like. How are the genetics experiments coming on? I got you Doctor Bosconovitch, didn't I? Has he been able to locate any… anomalies… in-..." He looked up at Kazuya, still seething a few paces from him.

Kazuya's breath slowed a little.

"He's splicing kangeroo cells with fossilised reptile DNA."

Chaolan pulled a face,

"What? Why?"

"Unlocking the ability to create and control strength. It is the key to controlling my own power."

"Kaz, I thought we were trying to-… I mean-… This isn't just an issue of control, is it. I thought you wanted to find out what this thing is, whether it's parasitic, whether it-"

"It gives me strength."

"It doesn't _give _you anything, Kazuya. It takes over you. You aren't you when it-" Chaolan swallowed again and looked away.

"Precisely. I need control. I will find a way to have both the power and the mastery over it."

"You're already probably the best fighter there is. Why do you need more?" That was a stupid question and Chaolan knew it. Why does anyone who has plenty need more? He put his hand to his head. He'd been expecting it to be bad when he came back, but he hadn't expected it to be this bad. Kazuya had really gone off the deep end. "Does Kazama Jun know about all this? She didn't try to talk you out of all these assassinations you've been ordering across the globe?"

Kazuya pulled back, for the first time looking defensive.

"She's gone," he muttered.

"Gone where?"

Kazuya folded his arms.

"Yakushima."

"So instead of asking your girlfriend to stay, you threw a tantrum and had half a dozen people murdered?"

Kazuya wheeled on him.

"I did ask her to stay," he snarled. "She left anyway."

Chaolan couldn't quite believe it. This coming from the man who had doggedly pursued a vendetta of vengeance for twenty years until the target in question was dead, from a man who could make a phonecall and cause bodies to turn up in five separate continents, but couldn't extend that reach to a tiny island off the coast of Japan.

"Alright, you're upset. I can see that. But let's separate these two things. We don't want to bring the corporation burning to the ground because your date left." Kazuya swung wild furious eyes on him. "Let me take care of this, y-"

"You weren't here."

Chaolan hesitated. Kazuya's face was lost in shadow again. His words had a strange quality to them, and were missing the anger he was expecting them to have.

"Well, I'm-"

"You weren't here." Chaolan frowned. He opened his mouth to reply but before he could, Kazuya spoke again: "you weren't here when I needed you."

Chaolan stepped forward until he could make out his brother's features.

"Kaz…, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was this bad. Why didn't you call me?"

"You wanted… space. After what I did." Chaolan had been hoping to avoid this. It looked like they were going to do it anyway. "I never wanted to hurt the people you were close to. I spent a lot of time and resources trying to keep Kato quiet. I didn't do what I did lightly or without thought."

"I know, Kaz…" This wasn't like Kazuya at all. Regretting things? Apologising? Perhaps Kazama Jun really had started to work changes in him.

"And I'm not like him." So that was where this was going. Chaolan immediately set out to placate him and try and stall a trip down memory lane that might result in more property damage, and possibly even brother damage.

"Of course you're not. You're nothing like father." Kazuya looked at him with startlingly searching eyes, hunting in there for truths. Chaolan tried to keep his face as honest as he could. "Let me help you. Why don't you sit down? What are you drinking? Whiskey?"

"Sake."

"I'll fetch you another." Chaolan moved passed Kazuya, aware of how exposed he felt when he turned his back to him. He picked his way through what remained of a drinks cabinet – mostly shattered wood, but a few bottles were still unbroken, nested in its midst. He held up bottles to the moonlight until he found the sake. Kazuya was back in his chair, surveying the destruction around him blankly. Chaolan knelt on one knee to pick up his discarded cup. He filled it and handed it to Kazuya. He stayed looking up at him as his brother drank. He watched him for a moment then hastily felt down his jacket. He found a cigar and set it between Kazuya's fingers and lit it for him. His heart was still beating fast, hoping this was enough to stave off most of Kazuya's bleak mood.

"It fucking sucked running the Zaibatsu without you," Kazuya said after a long silence.

Chaolan allowed himself a small smile.

"Have to answer your own phonecalls, did you?"

Kazuya made a vague noise of assent. Chaolan stood and watched as he blew out cigar smoke. It looked white against the blue neon beyond the window.

"Good luck trying to run it yourself."

Chaolan stopped stock still.

"Sorry?"

Another reel of white smoke poured into the air. It furled upwards and shimmered with the different city lights.

"You're going to be running the Zaibatsu in my absence. Not for long, so don't get any ideas."

"Kaz, what-"

"I'm going to Yakushima. I would have gone a week ago if you'd fucking shown up when you were meant to. Then you wouldn't have had to deal with the aftermath of all these killings I may not have made. But that's how it is now. Deal with it. Make sure there are no links to us and our tracks are suitably covered. Also I sent Ganryu on mission to kidnap a woman in America. Bruce has the details. If Doctor Bosconovitch succeeds in gene splicing that dinosaur make sure the press don't get wind of it. I want to show it off somewhere it'll make us a profit."

"K-Kazuya, you can't be serious…"

"And I invited Anna Williams to come work for us. She'll be helping you out with security and taking over as secretary for you whilst I'm away. Also Lei Wulong is in police custody, they're holding him as long as they can without trial. I haven't decided if I want him dead yet. Don't make any decisions on that without me. And I made you a robotics lab."

"Oh- oh right. You just made me a robotics lab in a week. Right, okay. Well that makes everything just fine, doesn't it. It's a total shitstorm, but at least you made me a fucking robotics lab. When am I going to be going in there, before or after I wipe up all your shit?"

"The lab won't be complete for a while, but it's being built. You can even keep it once I'm back."

"Oh, thank you so much, Mr Mishima. You're so generous."

"Cut the sarcasm or I'll blow it up before you set foot in it."

Chaolan held his head in his hand.

"You're really going to Yakushima? At a time like this?"

"Yes."

Kazuya sat smoking in silence. Chaolan sat down on the floor next to him. He reached up and took Kazuya's cup from his hand. He filled it with sake and downed it himself. He shuddered as the fine alcohol slid fragrant down his throat. He poured another and drank that too. He leaned back against Kazuya's leg.

"You know in Seoul, I read a book." He stared up into the darkness of the apartment. "I can't remember the last time I sat down and read a book. I got up at 10AM each day and had a continental breakfast in a little cafe. I sat in a recording studio and listened to Jae-suk's band record and no one knew who I was. Not his bandmates, not the sound engineers – I could just be. I was a no one. Just a boyfriend. Just a fan of the music."

Kazuya stirred. The smell of cigar smoke was thick and rich in the air around them.

"You hate being a no one."

There was another silence. Chaolan poured another cup of sake. He could hear paper rustling and the whistle of a breeze somewhere. He wondered if Kazuya had smashed a window too.

"You're changing," Chaolan said quietly. "You're changing into someone I don't recognise."

A beat. Then an exhale of smoke.

"That's what the genetics research is going to solve."

"You know that's not what I mean." Chaolan downed the sake then turned the empty cup between his fingers. "Maybe Yakushima could be good. Maybe she can help you."

A heavy hand came to rest on Chaolan's head, somewhere between affection and a warning. Mostly warning, if Chaolan was honest with himself. He closed his eyes though, and pretended otherwise. They sat in the darkness not speaking for a long time after that.

* * *

Kazuya pushed sunglasses further up his nose and drew his jacket about him as the air fluttered madly. The whir of helicopter blades was so loud he could barely hear his own security shouting as they tried to welcome him aboard. He ignored them and smoked his cigarette down to the butt as his luggage was transferred from the private jet to the helicopter.

Shortly, he was seated inside with two armed guards in Zaibatsu uniforms opposite him. He refused when someone offered him a pair of headphones. They'd mess up the way he'd gelled his hair, and why did he want to hear what anyone else was saying anyway?

He sat back as the whirring of the blades increased, turning from regular rhythm into continuous sound. He shrugged out of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, resettled large brown aviators, and watched out the window. A hot sun flared down on a low lying landscape of suburbs and long green rice fields slit with mirror streaks of water flashing in the light. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone anywhere that hadn't been for a business trip or conference.

Soon the main island fell away and was replaced by the dazzling sparkle of the sea. The helicopter flew much lower than the plane had, and he could see all the crests on the waves smeared like icing on a lavish desert. He was thinking of the State Benefactors Annual Ball, and how he'd spent too long talking to politicians, and not enough time talking to Kazama Jun. How had he failed to notice for so long that she had nothing? Had she been mocking him when she called him observant as she ate lunch at that cheap cafe? Why had he never followed up and made sure she had work after she dropped his case? The real answer was probably because it was almost impossible for him to imagine what it must be like to be without work, to look for a job, to have trouble supporting oneself. He wondered what people did when they wanted work. When he was vetting potential new employees he got neatly typed up sheets from his HR department. He was fairly sure those weren't the sheets that prospective employees submitted themselves though. Things like interviews had already happened at that stage – he got some kind of summary with the employee's skills and an evaluation on it. And he only saw those if he needed to. Most of it went to Chaolan and never made it to his desk. What did people write on those? Mishima Kazuya, 26, experienced practitioner of Mishima Ryu Karate, winner of the King of the Iron Fist Tournament, CEO of the Mishima Zaibatsu for one-and-a-bit years, aristocratic dilettante for twenty-five years. Skills: what the fuck were his skills? Surviving being thrown off a cliff. Surviving Heihachi. Killing Heihachi. No, that wouldn't go on a form even if it was his greatest achievement.

He folded his arms, lost in thought. Fins of dolphins cut through the water beneath him. He saw them jump and arc through the air, playfully chasing each other through the flashing waves. He vaguely recalled playing when he was very small. Before everything. He thought back, trying to think whether it had been his mother or grandfather that used to play with him. Perhaps it had been Wang Jinrei, an old friend of his grandfather's who'd been doting in the old days. He screwed up his eyes and tried to remember. Everything from then was always so hazy. Strong arms picking him up holding him up high in the air and mimicking the noise of a plane taking off. Not his mother or Jinrei then, they were much slighter in stature. His grandfather then. But his grandfather had always been more sedate as he vaguely recalled. He was always sitting playing go, sitting admiring the gardens, sitting observing in the corner of the dojo. He'd reached an age where a slower pace of life suited him.

A chill swept through Kazuya. Had it been his father? He barely recalled what Heihachi had been like before all this. His image of the man had very quickly been supplanted with much longer-lasting, bitter memories that had been painful enough never to forget. Had there really been a time when Heihachi had time for affection and games? Just the idea of being small and vulnerable and within striking distance of the man made his gut churn. He felt faintly sick and turned from his observation to glare sullenly at the guards sitting opposite him.

He watched as they shifted, uncomfortable under his inspection. They tried to sit a little straighter and fold their hands more professionally in their laps. He watched with interest as lumps bobbed in their throats. He wondered what stories they'd heard about him. He wondered whether they regretted taking a hefty paycheck over the possibility of a safe, comfortable job without a boss with a penchant for violence. He rarely intentionally harmed his employees, he considered. Only when they were being unjustifiably idiotic did he lash out at them. Or if he was in a particularly bad mood. He'd punched an analyst three days ago, he now recalled. He probably should have mentioned that to Chaolan. He'd made sure to threaten the man into silence afterwards, but Chaolan was better at dealing with that sort of thing – he slid in talk of compensation whilst he was making threats. And Chaolan had a way of threatening people that made it sound like they were being irresponsible children, and he was doing his sworn duty as the only adult in the room.

Chaolan. Who could have guessed his irritating brother was so important to the infrastructure of the Zaibatsu. Kazuya knew he did a lot, but he'd assumed he got passed on most of the work his brother did anyway. He hadn't quite realised what energy it took to put together a timetable of his own day, or to answer calls that were about _making _appointments. How was he meant to get out to all the places he was expected to appear at _and_ answer idiotic calls making plans for the next day, or week, or month, or even year? Had his father done all of this? Had he done it all himself without help? Was Kazuya just less capable than him, weaker than him? He shifted uncomfortably. He touched a finger almost subconsciously to the scar running across his face. Something clenched in his chest. No amount of telling himself his father was dead could set at ease the dread that he was inferior and would live to regret it if he couldn't immediately overcome that inequity. _The dead can't run shit. I'm running the Zaibatsu better than him because I'm fucking alive and he's not. _He closed his eyes, glad for the privacy the sunglasses gave him.

Yakushima from above was mountain so thick with forest that the island appeared to ripple in the wind like a beast shaking its fur. The scars of white waves were static lines about its coast lines. From up here, Kazuya could see no signs of human habitation. He wondered not for the first time if he might have made a mistake in leaving Tokyo. So many things he relied on to make his life run smoothly would be absent from life here. Not to mention the staff he was bringing with him were just two guards and a pilot. What the fuck happened when his cigarette case was empty? He usually left it on his desk and it magically refilled itself by the time he came in the next morning. Where did normal people buy cigarettes from? And what about food? Did they have restaurants on Yakushima? As far as he could see, the place was one-hundred-percent tree. Jun had mentioned once that she cooked her own food. Was he expected to cook his own food? And what measures were in place for laundry. Fuck, he hadn't thought about that. Who even laundered his clothes? He just left them out and they appeared the next day clean and ironed. Were there people here he could pay to do that? When he left Tokyo, it was always to stay in some hotel or a property elsewhere he owned himself. These necessities just sorted themselves out by the time he arrived. Chaolan would laugh at him if he heard these worries. Somehow the bastard could blend into any situation. He was at home in gross wealth and abject poverty. He could walk downtown in the roughest parts of any city and somehow make friends instead of ending up the target of a mugging. It wasn't fair how flexible his brother could be. Kazuya just wanted things to stay the same so that he could focus his energy on things he could actually be bothered with. He didn't want to think about irritating things like washing clothes and acquiring food.

He watched as the tips of the trees beneath him blew sideways with the gusts from the helicopter blades. One of the guards opposite him tapped his headphones and pointed to the pilot. Kazuya ignored him. The guards exchanged a look then spoke over their headsets some more. Kazuya watched as houses appeared beneath him: all low built, tiled or corrugated iron. Roads were dusty, and some weren't even paved. He wrinkled his nose. He watched as the helicopter sunk lower and lower, swinging slightly as it levelled towards the ground. It touched down on a beach. A long strand of sand curled away before him, bordered by a breakwater of broken boulders. He caught the handrail as the blades above him started to slow and jumped out. He frowned and looked down at the crunching sand under his gleaming leather shoes. He winced in the bright light and settled his sunglasses better onto his nose. A wind was buffeting his cheeks and left a strong salty tang on his tongue. He immediately felt down his jacket for a cigarette whilst surveying the sights about him. The sea was an endless brilliant blue before him. Wavelets washed the beach only a handful of yards away. He turned to survey the village behind him as he put a cigarette in his mouth. The road above the beach was lined with faces, all peering down at him. Beyond were small houses and a noodle store. His eyes moved to his lighter as he flicked it over the cigarette butt, and when he looked up again a familiar figure in white was making her way down to the beach. Kazuya watched as she grew closer.

The guards behind him were struggling with suitcases and the pilot jumped out the cockpit to speak with him.

"Apologies for the beach landing, sir. It was the only clear spot I could find. The tide's coming in so I'll have to take off in the next ten minutes."

Kazuya dismissed the pilot with a disinterested wave. He put his hands in his jacket pockets and stood smoking as Kazama Jun approached him.

The sleeves of her yukata spun in the wind as she walked. Her face was alight, lit by the sun, bright with a smile. The shadows in her cheeks were fading and there was a gleam in her eye that Kazuya realised had been missing before.

"Kazuya," she greeted, bowing to him. He inclined his head in response, then was surprised to find she'd wrapped her arms around him, in front of the Zaibatsu guards and the village audience that had gathered on the road. He placed an arm around her awkwardly. She smelled of the sea. When she drew back she caught him in her eyes, all dark and full of strange mysteries and endless calm. Eyes that had captivated him the first time she'd set foot in his brother's office. "I'll get some help for your bags," she said.

He blinked out of a reverie, cigarette almost dropping.

"That won't be necessary. Handling my affairs is what I pay th-"

"Nonsense." And she'd already waved over to the road above the beach. A small army of children in school uniform descended onto the sand. Kazuya's brow furrowed as they all stopped and gawped the helicopter. "They were too excited by the helicopter," Jun explained, "so I think they were all let out of school early." Kazuya's frown deepened as four children lifted up a bag between them and began carrying it up to the road. "My sister is bringing the truck around, so they won't carry it far. Just off the sand."

"You have a sister?"

"I have two." She indicated that they should walk. Kazuya stepped in pace with Jun, his guards and the remaining luggage following just behind. Children ran shouting about them, some pointing at the helicopter, and others spreading their arms and mimicking its sounds as the skipped about the beach. When they reached the road, Kazuya looked down at this shoes, they were flecked with sand.

It wasn't just children that had come out to see the excitement. Most of the village seemed to be here too. He watched as people shuffled and whispered about him. One old lady with crinkled, sea-beaten skin edged up to them. She bowed low to him and mumbled something he didn't catch. He looked at Jun in question.

"She says thank you for the crane." Jun smiled, amused at his confusion. "In the next village there's a crane that was bought fifteen years back and greatly improved the lives of fishermen who use it to unload their boats. It... has a Mishima logo on it."

Kazuya nodded, still with confusion on his face. The old woman was looking up at him now with gratitude.

"Uh... you're... welcome," he said.

The old lady bowed again and backed away. Kazuya shook his head. A small truck with an open trailer for a back pulled up before them. Kazuya frowned at this too. Jun helped his bodyguards load his suitcases into the back. The driver got out and came around to greet him. She was younger than Jun and dressed in practical cargo shorts and a tank top. She smiled quicker than Jun did but it was the same smile. She had the same honesty to her too, though without some of those incisive depths that Jun stirred in him.

"Kazama Nao," the young woman said. "Jun has told us so much about you!"

Kazuya didn't return the smile. His reputation often preceded him, but that was rarely a good thing. He wondered what on earth Jun had being saying about him. Presumably she hadn't been talking about murder, kidnapping, and animal experimentation. If Nao was dismayed by his silence she didn't say so. She grinned at Jun, then got back in the truck. Kazuya sent one guard with the vehicle and kept the other with him. The truck pulled away and Kazuya was left walking with Jun up the main village street, with half the village in tow.

"They don't get many visitors," Jun explained.

"Clearly." His gaze roamed over the village as they walked: a handful of stores selling fresh produce, a corner store selling tools and odd ends. He smoked in silence, a grim expression on his face.

"It's not that bad," she laughed. It was a carefree laugh. It caught him out and he glanced at her, noticing the way her hair blew free in the wind, and the way her whole face was alight, the way she couldn't stop smiling. A little of his dismay subsided.

He looked back over his shoulder. There were children walking either side of his guard, staring up and mimicking his serious strides. Beyond that there were elderly folk and even some adults of working age ambling along, peering curiously at him. A man broke off from the crowd and trotted up to them, he was unsteady on his feet and carefree with his smiles.

"Hello!" he said enthusiastically to Kazuya, "do you want a cracker?" He offered Kazuya an open box of biscuits. Kazuya stared at him. "I'm Jun's uncle," the man said. He had hair just starting to grey and pimple on the end of his nose. "Any trouble at all, Mr Mishima, and you come to me, I can help you out." He pointed at himself and nodded. All his movements were a little exaggerated.

"Thanks, Maeda," Jun gave the man a kind smile, but Kazuya could see her wincing slightly, "we'll be sure to let you know."

"You want a cracker, Jun?"

Jun took a biscuit and thanked him again. The man waved as he wandered off. Jun bit down on her biscuit. It looked hard and was sprinkled with salt.

"He's not my uncle," she explained to Kazuya, "he's drunk. He's a master tatami weaver who lives in the white house on the end of that street. My uncle lives in the next village over and runs a dojo there."

Kazuya shook his head, eyebrows moving in disbelief.

"You grew up here?" he said, disturbed and somewhat incredulous. She laughed.

"Just there." She pointed to a clump of trees further up the slope. The village backed onto the spines of a mountain, thick with deep foliage and shrouded by tree canopy. An eagle wheeled and called above the treetops.

"In a tree."

She nudged him and smiled.

"In the house you can't see for the trees."

The house turned out to be nestled under the boughs of a half dozen cedars. Sunlight caught in the tangle of their leaves and left dappled patterns on the overgrown flagstones of the yard. The house was a traditional build, much less grandiose than the Mishima Estate though, and devoid of the latest technology. It could have been plucked from time, two or three hundred years ago, save for a newspaper holder bolted to the outer gate. As he stepped into the yard, a cluster of chickens squawked in alarm, immediately fleeing before him. Jun's face seemed a little sad as she watched them dart into the undergrowth.

"We've prepared a room for you," Jun said, slipping out of her geta and stepping barefoot up onto the wood of the floor. Kazuya tugged at his laces. He'd smoked his cigarette down to the stub and pulled it out his mouth, about to flick it aside. "Allow me," she took the butt from him and vanished indoors. He raised an eyebrow, then stepped into the dwelling in his socks.

He paused in the threshold. There was a quiet in the house. Old, but well made tatami lined a square room before him. A sliding door to his right showed another room: worn but warm. The wood was all old, but polished over and over, and creased with care. The house was small enough that every room could be opened to the light. He felt a breeze on his face as air shifted through the rooms. He was left with a strange feeling – as if perhaps this was what a home was meant to feel like. Even after he'd pulled apart most of the décor at the Mishima Estate, he couldn't rid the place of the ghost of Heihachi. It was his father's house, his father's dominion, and Kazuya had always been a trespasser there. He'd had to tread lightly, touch nothing, and he'd lived moment to moment with the knowledge that nothing there was truly his.

"Kazuya?" Jun appeared in a doorway, yukata flowing about her. A cherry print of pink petals bordered the sleeves and climbed from the hem to the collar. She smiled. "This way." She showed him to a square room, laid out with a futon, a towel, a navy, fresh, evening kimono, and a standing fan in the corner. Kazuya's luggage had already been brought in and was set neatly in one corner. "I know it's not quite what you're used to but-…"

"You expecting me to wear that?" He nodded at the kimono.

"You're free to wear whatever you wish." A little of her cool humour was returning to her, setting Kazuya more at ease than this new beaming version of Kazama Jun. "I warn you though, Yakushima in summer can get hot. Especially during the evenings when its most humid." She glanced out the open door, "And we're due a thunderstorm in the next day or so – the humidity will keep climbing until it breaks."

"Where the fuck have you brought me, Kazama, a jungle?"

She reached up and brushed his jaw briefly with a finger.

"I told you to call me Jun." All his cool left him at that touch and he stood still, a slightly dazed expression on his face. She gave him a sly grin. "Now, come meet my family."

Kazuya abruptly found himself in the heart of the house surrounded by the Kazama family. He bowed to the matriarch of the family, a woman with a kindly expression and serious eyes, who went by the name of Kokoro. She was wrapped in an old patterned kimono, and didn't say much, but kept nodding and smiling as her daughters chatted. Kazuya was reintrodcued to Nao, the middle sister who'd driven his luggage and was clearly the most animated of the siblings. Finally he met Rei, a schoolgirl of about seventeen who slipped her hand into Jun's and peered around her when she saw Kazuya. Kazuya wondered if she had her sister's gift to see through people to their dark core.

Just when Kazuya thought all the formalities were over, the youngest sister piped up.

"Who are your friends?"

Kazuya turned to her with arched eyebrows,

"I beg your pardon?" The girl shied away but her eyes stayed stern. Kazuya glanced at the other Kazamas. They all seemed to be looking at him expectantly. Four sets of Jun-like eyes all weighing his conscience. What had he gotten himself into. "I came alone to Yakushima."

"I already met one of them," Nao jumped in, unable to stay quite any longer. "Mr Saito seems nice! He didn't say much, but he was very sweet trying to bring all the luggage in himself because he didn't want to trouble me." Nao laughed and her sisters joined her.

Slow comprehension dawned on Kazuya's face.

"You mean my bodyguards?"

"Why do you need bodyguards if you've got Jun with you?" Rei, the youngest sister, asked.

"I-… well-"

"Will they be staying for dinner with us? And are they staying overnight?" Nao added.

Kazuya turned his head between all the questions.

"That's enough now," Jun stepped in, saving him. "I'll see to all the arrangements, don't you worry."

"Jun, are you going to come by the dojo? You said you'd come by last week – the students are dying to see you again. You could bring Mr Mishima along. You could teach him Kazama Ryu!"

"Mr Mishima is already an experienced martial artist, Nao. Don't you remember watching on the television?"

"You have a television?" Kazuya muttered under his breath, somewhere between disbelief and derision.

Jun gave him a look. He exhaled a huff of air.

"We'll see about the dojo. Let Mr Mishima get some rest now. Please help mother make dinner for this evening, I won't be able to help you."

"Alright, Jun. The world doesn't stop when you're not here, you know – we can look after ourselves without you!"

Jun gave a smile then returned with Kazuya to the room he'd been given.

"They're loud," Kazuya said to Jun as she set an ash tray on a small table and slid the doors shut for privacy.

"Not as loud as Chaolan."

"No one's as loud as Chaolan," Kazuya retorted. Jun turned on a little sidelight on the table. "Electricity? How innovative."

Jun stood, and in the low light she took his breath away – all ethereal and dressed in white, ashen hair brushed away from eyes that lidded for him now, regarding him with that disapproving look he'd come to cherish.

"You're a very rude guest, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Not to my face. They wouldn't dare."

"Well," Jun moved a little closer, "_I _dare." Kazuya swallowed. They stayed quiet and close, watching one another for a few moments. Kazuya moved a fraction forward. Jun took a step back and sighed. Kazuya tried not to let his disappointment show. "We've got lots to talk about."

"We do?"

She gave him a sharp glance.

"Conversations that we didn't finish before I left."

"I finished all the conversations I intended to have. What did you have in mind?" They fixed each other with stubborn stares.

"That laboratory for starters."

"Got nothing to say about it."

"Agent Lei."

"He trespassed on my property. He deserves what he's got coming."

"And Kato Takumi."

"Not even the last body I'm responsible for."

She looked hurt at that. Good. It was time she realised he wasn't going to change. He didn't mind her going off to pursue the moral high ground in her own time, but he wasn't about to have it shouldered onto him.

"You had more people killed whilst I was away…"

"Don't sound so surprised. I told you to walk away if you didn't like it. But instead you invited me here. I keep telling you to walk away. You're the one that keeps coming back."

"Maybe I keep expecting to come back to a better man." Kazuya's lip twisted into a snarl, though he said nothing and made no noise. Her face softened. "I'm not saying these things to hurt you, Kazuya."

"Who said anything about hurt?" Kazuya snapped, "this is my pissed off face."

"Kazuya,… I can feel-"

"I don't care what you can feel! Just because you can pry into my emotions, doesn't mean you can understand me or who I am!"

The room felt colder and darker. Kazuya could feel his pulse racing. He'd already said more than he ever meant to to another living being on these matters.

"That's all I'm asking for," Jun said gently, "I just want to understand. Help me to understand. Why can I see two people in front of me?"

"There aren't _two people_," he sneered, "you just can't bear the idea that you've fallen in love with a monster."

The silence that settled then was thick and heavy. He could feel it weighty with consequences he hadn't quite thought through. It reminded him of the silences from his childhood, where he knew he'd stepped over a line and that what came next would hurt. He always had been too stubborn for his own good. Maybe in the end it had always come down to him. Maybe if he'd been different, the past could have been different. Maybe if he'd been different from the very beginning, he could still have the things he remembered in those flashes of memories. If only he was better at lying, then he at least could have had Jun beside him a little longer. How the fuck did Chaolan do it? He was so good at hiding and laughing and pretending that he wasn't just as furious and angry and empty as Kazuya was. He could let people in enough to get some relief from this nightmare, but also managed to keep that dividing line. He never really let himself become vulnerable. What had he said to Kazuya a few months past when he saw all this coming? _Anything you think you feel is temporary. Everything in life is temporary. Except fucking family. _Why hadn't he listened? Why had he gone and let himself… _feel _things. Well, when it all ended it would be for the better. The helicopter wouldn't have gone far. He could take it back to the mainland and be rid of all this inconvenience. Oh fuck, why did this hurt like his chest was being torn in two again. Except this time it was definitely his fault. Once a stubborn child, always a stubborn child. Somehow he was still picking losing fights. CEO of the Mishima Zaibatsu and still making the same mistakes. None of this would ever have happened if he had turned the air-conditioning on in his office, sat down and signed the stack of weapons contracts on his desk. He wouldn't have walked into Chaolan's office, he wouldn't have met Kazama Jun with her entrancing, soul-piercing gaze that dissected him the moment he stepped into that room. He wouldn't have shown her round that powerplant, and made up excuse after excuse to be near her again, to feel less of this torrent of chaos and hate and rage and-… curling mists of smokey dark crawled up the inside of his eyes. _Let it come_, he thought bitterly, _why the fuck not._Surrendering to nothingness was so much better than this internal mess seething through his mind. And tendrils filmed over his vision, darkening the world, darkening his sight, darkening his thoughts, darkening his-

He blinked.

Jun had wrapped her arms around him.

He looked down at her, stunned.

She tightened her arms. Her embrace was like solid earth beneath him: stable, unwavering, rooted. His thoughts calmed. _Idiot_, he thought to himself, _as if someone like me could shake Kazama Jun's faith in anything. _Then he closed his eyes and drew in an uncertain breath. When he let it out it was like he was exhaling years.

They stood in silence as the warm glow of evening shone through the walls. The silhouettes of branches shifting in the breeze printed themselves onto the gold paper. Kazuya let his mind fall away into quiet until there was only the rustle of leaves, and the warm rays of light, and the shadows moving on old wood, and the grounding embrace of Jun tight about him.

* * *

**Author Note: **Now I get to take you to Yakushima and a quieter pace of life. I'll put some photographs up on my Twitter (Erenaeoth) so that you can get a feel of the place. I've started adding some very short Tekken stories to my Archive of Our Own account, so if you'd like to read some flash fiction of mine, my username there is still OneShotRevolt, and the collection is called _Iron Fist and Iron Will_. Feel free to send me prompts for that, you can write to me here or on Twitter or Tumblr.

Thank you for your continued comments and reviews! Yes, I like the idea that Jun draws a strength from the peace of her environment, but that conversely the strain of city life causes her to fade. Whether that's a supernatural thing, or as a result of the stress of trying to live the way she has, is something that can remain ambiguous - it's a bit of both I think. She's someone at home in nature and busy places drain her and tire her out. A pretty relatable experience, I find!

Drunk man who offers a cracker and claims to be someone's uncle and turns out to be a master tatami weaver is a real man, and the first person I met as I stepped into a fairly remote Japanese town. I just wanted Kazuya to have the same wtf moment I did as I got off a train in a proper rural area of Japan.


	15. Coming Undone

Kazuya toed the weeds growing between the flagstones as he listened to the mobile phone ring. He sucked on his cigarette as he waited, noticing that an ash tray had been set on the low garden wall near him. He regarded it sourly until the phone picked up.

"Lee Chaolan, Mishima Zaibatsu."

"Yeah, don't get used to it."

"I was beginning to think you'd died in a typhoon leaving me a glorious inheritance of billions."

"I'd crawl up out the grave to pry the Zaibatsu out of _your_ hands."

"Thanks. Master of taking playful fraternal banter into the domain of fucking creepy, aren't you. I'm handling all your shit just fine, by the way, thanks for asking."

Kazuya smiled around the cigarette. He took it out his mouth and blew out a ream of smoke.

"Nothing's gone up in flames then?"

"On the contrary, it's surprisingly easy to keep things in order without you around lighting the fires. How's the island of no fun?"

Kazuya glanced about him. He took another drag of his cigarette before answering.

"Kind of weird. When I arrived the whole village was there staring at me. Someone thanked me personally for a Mishima Industries crane probably built in my grandfather's time. And there's like – three fucking Kazama Juns in this house all with judgemental stares. And her mother too."

Chaolan sniggered.

"Wait, you're staying in their family home?"

"Not like there's a hotel here. There's fucking nothing here. A noodle store. And the-" He slapped his neck, flattening a mosquito. "The bugs here are murder."

"Ah. So, coming home soon?"

Kazuya toed the weeds again, scuffing his dress shoes.

"I only just arrived… And they did cook me good food yesterday."

"Good food? High praise indeed from a man who'll only eat a meal prepared from his own shortlist of Tokyo chefs."

"Ah, shut it."

"And how is Jun? Are things… okay with her?"

Kazuya kept looking at the ground and smoking.

"Is Agent Lei still in custody?"

"Okay, not talking about that then, I guess. Yes, he's still in custody. He hasn't been charged because no one's sure what you want him charged with yet. They've been releasing him into a back alley and re-arresting him to toe the line of the law. Interpol have started asking questions but I can keep sending them in circles if that's what you want."

"Release him."

Chaolan choked, then quickly coughed to cover his surprise.

"R… release him?"

"Make him sign a non-disclosure agreement first, agreeing not to discuss what he saw."

"I'm not sure he'll sign. He's stubborn as hell and-"

"Make it happen."

"You can't just say 'make it happen' like you're waving a wand and-"

"You know what I'm saying. Be creative."

"Kazuya, you know I don't like doing this kind of thing. I didn't like doing it under Father and I don't like-"

"Did Anna Williams arrive?"

There was pause. He heard Chaolan collect himself then let out a slow sigh.

"Yes, she arrived." Chaolan's voice was heavy with all the unhappiness Kazuya could hear him holding back. "But I wish you hadn't called her, I'm perfectly capable of hiring my own secretary."

"You'd hire a pushover who'd do what you say, then you'd seize all their work to do yourself and pay them to do nothing."

"Ms Williams doesn't listen to _anything_ I say! And she doesn't even knock when she enters my office!"

"Neither do you half the time."

"When she wants my attention she _lies across my desk._"

"You lie across my desk, Chaolan."

"Yeah but… I'm not… you know, wearing a skimpy red dress, looking absolutely gorgeous and trying to distract you with my wily ways." Kazuya spat out his cigarette. "She is _very_ distracting, is all I'm saying," Chaolan clarified.

"Chaolan. I specifically chose her so that you wouldn't try to fuck your secretary. She's a forthright, self-confident hardened killer. _Not_ your type."

"What do you mean '_not my type_'?" He heard Chaolan sit back, a flirtatious tone entering his voice. "Are you implying I'm only into people I can manipulate, because let me tell you right now, self-confident hardened killer or not – I _can _manipulate her too."

"Urgh. I can't believe people think I'm the worse brother."

"Must be something to do with my homicide rate. What is that again? Oh yeah, zero."

"Ah yes, because orders, phone calls, and business transactions never harmed anyone. Your hands are _completely _clean."

"I mean yes, they are literally clean, unlike yours, which keep getting covered in blood."

"Do not fuck Anna Williams. How much clearer do I have to be about this." Kazuya reached down to pick up his cigarette butt from the floor. He placed it in the ash tray. "You've got a boyfriend who cares about you and a company to run. Do not screw things up by getting it on with the secretary."

"She's so much more than a secretary though, Kaz. Have you seen her thighs? She could kill a man with her thighs. Squeeze your head like a watermelon until it popped."

"That's what you look for in a romantic partner? Their ability to crush your skull?"

"So fucking sexy. One day when you grow up, you'll understand."

"I am being serious though, Chaolan. If I have to come back there because of some dumb shit like this, I'll-"

"-Make me a janitor, cut access to half my bank accounts, do that thing where you get up in my face like you're about to tear my limbs off yadda yadda. All your threats are noted, I'll try to resist all the sultry temptation being tossed my way. It's very hard to say no to her though, and you know how much I like being seduced. Do you think so long as it didn't affect the Zaibatsu, I could still-"

"What the fuck is wrong with you!? You've got a guy who's head over heels for you! Don't you like him any more? Get rid of him if you don't want him! Then you can pursue whoever you like as long as it's not on company time or company property."

There was a pause. Kazuya winced. He knew what was coming.

"Kazuya…" Chaolan's voice was sly, "so your real worry is that I'm being _disloyal_. You don't like the idea of me having a little light sex on the side…"

"For fuckssake, Chaolan. Can we not talk about this?"

"So is this you looking out for the Zaibatsu or for Jae-suk?" Chaolan still had that irritating coy tone of voice, like he knew just how uncomfortable these conversations made his brother.

"Neither! I just don't want you fucking up a good thing you've got going just because you spot something new!" Kazuya put his hand to his face. That hadn't been the addendum he'd intended.

"I see." Real Chaolan was poking through now. Kazuya could hear something icy entering his voice. He shifted nervously. "So now your pretending to care for _me_?"

"Chaolan, don't do this."

"No, no – come on, I want to hear it. I want to hear all your relationship advice. That is what this is, right? Advice? Or is this an order from my boss?"

"Chaolan…"

"Is it company policy now? Not only are you spying on my lovers, you're now policing who I can and can't sleep with? Oh and I guess add to the list murdering the ones who don't stay quiet enough for you after we've broken up-"

"Quiet!" Kazuya hissed, glancing round to see who could hear. There was no one. Only sun-baked trees with old curling boughs scattered with leaves all shot through with light and the distant chatter of birds whispering from hidden perches. The stillness reminded him of Jun, and he thought of how her yukata would fan out a little when she turned about as he called to her. He was reminded of her smile – not the occasionally sly one's she'd given him in Tokyo – the Yakushima smile that he was starting to get used to – the small one that never left, the one that meant she was continuously content and happy. "I didn't mean it like that. I didn't mean to sound controlling. I was just… thinking… of how I wouldn't like it if-… I mean if I was-…" He chewed his lip. Chaolan hadn't interrupted him as he normally would have done by now. "It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have said that. You're free to do as you please."

Another silence. Kazuya closed his eyes. Somehow even when he was trying, things had a way of turning against him. Whoever knew it could be so hard just to try and be nice.

"Hmph." He could almost see Chaolan folding his arms and tossing his hair. "I suppose I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. Although you can hardly blame me when you monitor everything else in my life."

He heard Chaolan sigh on the other end of the line. Kazuya hesitated. He frowned and rubbed his chin.

"Does this mean you're not-…"

"I'm not mad at you, Kazuya. Just… please don't call unless there's something you need, okay? It stresses me out. Everything's under control here. Have a good time. Relax. Have you ever had a holiday before?"

"Apparently when I was four-years-old. I don't remember it though."

"Right, exactly my point. Take some time off. Make the most of this. I'll call you the moment anything needs your attention, alright?"

"Alright," Kazuya said sullenly. He kept frowning as his eyes roamed over the heavily forested slopes up to his left and the tin and tile village roofs with their windy sea view down to his right. A wave of unbelonging passed over him, and he had an odd urge to find some way to keep the conversation alive so that he could keep hearing his brother's familiar voice. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Have a good one. Everything will be waiting for you when you get back." Chaolan cut the line. The sound of the dead tone was loud in his ear. He slowly brought the receiver down. He looked at it. He reached automatically for a cigarette, then caught sight of the ash tray. He abandoned the idea and sighed heavily. He sat down on the low wall and watched the way the white lines of waves moved towards the breakwater. The sea was a strip of deep green blue above the roofs of the village below. He turned the phone over between his hands and sat, quiet and thoughtful.

He remained sitting and looking out at the view until Jun found him there, half an hour later.

"Finished calling Chaolan?"

Kazuya glanced up, she was back in practical loose three-quarter cargo pants and a sleeveless shirt. He nodded silently. He got up, placed the mobile phone in his room then rejoined her.

"Sure you want to wear a suit?" She asked when he returned.

"It's that or a gi."

"You don't have any casual clothes with you?"

He glowered at her, but went back inside. He came back out in a thin grey tank top that hugged his form, blue jeans and heavy boots. Jun's eyes went wide.

"What?"

"You own… normal people clothes."

"Shut up. Where are we going – to play with children or rescue cute animals?"

"That's not what I do, and don't steal this moment from me, I thought you'd never in your life worn anything but a three piece suit."

"Maybe that's what I wanted you to think."

She raised an eyebrow, but her smile was light.

"Come on. We're going up the mountain."

They followed a well worn track up between bending, sun-dappled treetrunks. The earth was moist and smelled fresh and damp underfoot. Curling, flaxen leaf undergrowth spread across the slopes either side of them and Kazuya could hear the woods alive with the buzz of insects and chirrup of unseen birds. He hit his neck and flattened a bug, muttering a curse. Jun smiled and looked back at him.

"Want to talk about what you and Chaolan argued about?"

He grumbled again. Jun always seemed to know what was on his mind.

"No. It was stupid stuff. A woman he wants to f-… sleep with."

Jun hung back until she was walking next to him. The path was narrow, so she was very close to him. He was distinctly aware of the way her hand brushed against his as they walked.

"A woman?"

"Yeah, the secretary I hired for him. He's always overworking himself and stressing out, so I tried to give him someone who's as efficient as he is, someone who'd share the workload with him. But now all he wants to do is…" He let out a heavy sigh. To his surprise Jun laughed aloud. He scowled in response. "I don't see what's funny. He's meant to be running the Zaibatsu in my absence not getting it on with all the employees."

She turned bright eyes to him.

"That is such a Chaolan dilemma to have: stress or too much sex."

His hair stood up on end. He'd never heard Jun talk about anything… intimate before. Damn that it had to be a conversation about his brother though.

"He is a man of extremes," Kazuya muttered, hoping the faint red in his cheeks would be put down to the heat and the exertion of the walk uphill. A pleasant silence lapsed between them, and Kazuya was oddly struck the need to confide the rest of the conversation to her. He chewed on his thoughts for a little longer, then volunteered: "He pretty much called me controlling."

"Not an unreasonable accusation." He shot her a dark look. She shrugged. "You _are_ controlling. You micro-manage everything in that corporation, bar your own temper." Kazuya continued glaring at her.

"I apologised to him," he said abruptly, but then paused for a moment, "or at least I think I did." He screwed up his face in recollection. "I never wanted to be someone with an iron grip over the lives of others. I was just so focussed on getting out from under the one over me that I-… I don't know what happened. I had to become iron to overcome iron."

Jun was quiet. She clasped his forearm suddenly, setting off sparks in Kazuya's chest. He mentally cursed himself for being to weak to this. She pointed. He looked. He couldn't see anything. More foliage. More undergrowth. More plants.

"Mizuna," she explained, "and it hasn't bolted yet! All the mizuna we grow closer to the house has gone to seed and turned bitter. It's rare to find any that's still good to eat this late in the summer. Let's gather some now and we can have it fresh as a salad tonight."

Kazuya screwed up his nose, still not sure what he was meant to be looking at. Jun knelt on the path and pulled a small knife from her belt, she cut the stem of a tall green plant with narrow jagged leaves. She beckoned him over. He remained looking displeased as she filled his arms with stuff.

"You want to eat this weed?"

"You've eaten it too at some point, I guarantee. She plucked a leaf off. It looked more like it belonged in a salad when not attached to the thick stem, but he still frowned. She held it up to his mouth.

"I'm not eating a leaf off some random plant on a mountain." She rolled her eyes at him and fluttered the tip over his lips. He scowled and bit the end off savagely. He chewed and swallowed. It was definitely familiar – fresh and peppery.

"See. All good." She put the rest in her own mouth, and Kazuya couldn't stop himself from watching her lips and the way they moved. "Let's keep going."

"Keep going? I'm carrying all these dumb plants now. How many more do you want?"

She gave him another smile and kept walking. He sighed heavily but tramped after her. He scowled as he walked, mulling over his thoughts and trying to sort through his frustrations.

"I think one of the things that bothered me…" he started again. Jun looked back and slowed her pace to walk with him. "Is… that Chaolan wanted to get with this other person whilst he said he'd be with Jae-suk. But it's never bothered me when he's done things like that before. And I suppose the difference was – or I mean – is… that-… I mean I wouldn't like it if…" Kazuya glared darkly at the mizuna in his arms as he walked. "I mean… if I were in that situation, I wouldn't like-… If there was some kind of agreement, even a tacit one, then it would… annoy me if it were broken."

Jun looked over at him. There was a hint of amusement in her face. Kazuya's expression stayed thundercloud black. He couldn't see anything amusing about the conversation.

"And are you in a situation like that?"

Kazuya slowed until he stopped, eyes still flashing and face all intense and serious.

"… A situation like what?" he asked, stalling the inevitable direction this was going whilst he worked out his words.

"A situation where you've agreed to be with one other person and not anyone else," she said calmly, like it was the easiest thing in the world to talk about.

"…Perhaps."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Perhaps?"

"It's an agreement with two sides. Not something one person can decide alone."

"Well, I don't have plans to force anyone else to walk up this mountain to pick mizuna and tubers with me? You?" He shook his head violently. "Then let's do it together, shall we?" He nodded even more violently. She gave him a smile. He kept frowning for good measure, but his insides unclenched. He'd been trying to work out how to formalise whatever this thing between them was for weeks. Chaolan always made it look so easily ('Just ask her!'/ 'Fuck off'). His eyes followed Jun as she strode ahead up the path. She seemed stronger here, comfortable. He liked seeing her confident, with the uncertainty of stumbling into stray improprieties removed from her. Tokyo had caged something that was born to be out here, with the light sliding dappled over her bare shoulders.

It was coming on to midday and the forest, despite offering shelter from the hot sun, was beginning to thicken with cloying damp air. Kazuya jerked his head away from another insect. He couldn't understand why people romanticised the country so much. It was all dirt, bugs, vegetation and no air-conditioning. Dark patches of sweat were growing on his tank top, and he was glad Jun had suggested he not wear a dress shirt. The climb was steeper now, and the undergrowth was becoming lower – more an emerald carpet than a straggling mash of head-height brush. The trees were becoming bigger: they were less twisty, shooting straight up – red cedars that reached to touch the heavens, blotting out the sky with a canopy that formed a high hall above them. Kazuya craned his head back to see. There were cedars planted in Tokyo, but nothing this big, or this old. He hadn't realised quite how big they could grow. The trunk next to him could have easily reached past the first three floors of the Zaibatsu building, perhaps even higher. He caught Jun watching him and reverted his face to a scowl, lest she see he was casually interested in his surroundings. She had that knowing smile on her face again. How infuriating.

The path became thinner, only a footstep wide, and the land about them wilder. Enormous moss-covered boulders were entwined with creepers, ensnared in winding roots, and neighboured by seas of alfalfa and vibrant clovers. Thickets of sprawling waxy rhododendrons were interspersed with pole straight bamboos, some even forming screens, as if to shield some more secret world from view. Over to his right he could hear running water. Just the sound of it made him pass a tongue over his lips, tasting the salty sweat there. Jun glanced back at him. She nodded once then veered off into the undergrowth to their right. Kazuya rolled his eyes but followed her.

A white brook jumped between emerald rocks under the golden glow of the forest. It's brief pools were perfectly clear and tiny silver fish darted to hide in deep green shadows as he leaned over to peer down. Kazuya set his armfuls of mizuna to one side.

"Is it safe to drink?" He looked up at the sound of splashing.

Jun had soaked her face and was now slurping noisily from water collected in cupped palms. He looked back at the pool. He dipped his palms into the water. It was sharp and cold. He held them under the clear running water, and had a sudden sharp recollection of looking down at his palms like this whilst standing at the edge of a precipice. There was something simple sounding when he'd told his brother and Jun that he'd thrown Heihachi off a cliff. The reality was anything but simple. A man in his physical prime, all thick muscles and dead weight. Kazuya had dragged that body as much as lifted it, straining all the strength that remained after the brutal fight. Fire had burned in his veins and he'd never wanted anything more in his life than to push that body away, to finally be rid of it. So he'd dragged it to that cliff edge, got on his knees and rolled the solid kilograms of meat and nightmare off into oblivion. He'd clung to the edge to watch it fall. Then watched an age longer to make sure the body lay still, because he of all people knew that with enough tenacity and enough hate and enough bitterness, even those who are meant to be dead will stand up and climb that cliff out of spite. He shuddered.

He lifted palms filled with clear water to his lips and drunk. He closed his eyes as the cool fresh water spilled into his parched mouth. He drank and drank, then poured water down the back of his neck and over his brow, and sunk his arms in to his elbows, enjoying the relief from the humid heat.

When he looked up, he saw Jun. She was sitting on a mossy boulder in the middle of the stream, legs crossed beneath her, arms outspread. All along her arms sat brightly coloured birds.

Kazuya stared at her.

She was looking at the birds tilting her head as if inspecting their vibrant plumage. The birds chattered to one another and a couple had broken into fragments of song. They shuffled their wings and preened themselves and hopped on tiny feet, making Jun suppress a giggle as their tiny claws scratched her arms.

Kazuya kept staring.

He was struck more truly than he had ever been, that before him was someone greater than him. This was someone who belonged in books, someone who only had to reach out a finger to touch a life and it would transfigure. This was someone he truly did not deserve. In all other aspects of his life, he felt like he ruled the world. He felt like he'd earned everything he had through blood and sweat and, well, mostly blood, if he was honest, and the larger part of it had been his own. He could look down on everything about him and justly feel superior to it all. But not here, on his knees by a river in the dark of a forest on the slopes of a mountain, looking up at this woman with birds alighting on her arms. Here he wasn't anything. And it was as if Kazama Jun had always seen this version of him. She'd always just seen a man on his knees in the mud and never the brutal CEO of the Mishima Zaibatsu.

The hunger and thirst he'd had for as long as he could remember – the driving ambition to become strong – just then it was ensnared and captivated by this moment, and he wanted with all that single-minded focus was to have what she had. To know the secrets that would take away all the stuff that clogged up life and to reach for things that were truly worth something. It became as clear as a mountainside stream just then, that in becoming such an enormous consuming presence in Kazuya's life, Heihachi had bred his perfect successor. He had bred someone who would seize the Zaibatsu and fiercely tie his identity to it. He had bred someone as ruthless as himself, as unforgiving, as merciless. Isn't that what Chaolan had been saying more and more often, as he tiptoed around him and tried not to anger him? And what the fuck did the Zaibatsu matter? What was it? He had everything he could possibly want, a thousand times over. Apart from someone like Jun. Someone he hadn't noticed was starving. What did power and wealth and control or any of that matter? Heihachi had had all that, and Kazuya had taken it from him. Nothing goes with you when you die. Nothing but terror. Terror and the realisation that out there, beyond life, there are even worse things waiting beyond the veil. Five-years-old and learning to fear demons. Real demons. Not just Heihachi. Roving spirits out to bind themselves to those too weak to fend for themselves. Spirits out to whisper promises of greatness and never telling the cost of such a bargain.

Something stirred in his chest – something that wasn't him – something disturbed by his thoughts. He touched his fingers to his heart. The darkness never moved unless summoned by an outburst of his anger. He hadn't been angry just now though. He looked up and saw Jun looking at him. She slowly lowered her arms and the birds took off, filling the air with the rustle of fluttering wings. She settled her hands in her lap.

"We will fight it together," she said softly. He looked at her. After a long moment, he nodded.

After that their journey upward seemed to trespass into a world more mysterious. The shadows were fuller, richer, deep violets and sparkling with dust motes. The green was darker and wildlife more hushed and reverent. Kazuya became aware that the path under his feet was set with old worn stones inset with fading carved patterns and characters. He wondered who had carried these stones all the way up here and for what purpose they had been set. The bowels of enormous twisting roots wove in and out of their vision, diving beneath beards of grey moss and thickets of thorny bushes. Occasionally, he saw tiny overgrown bodhisattva statues, crooked upon the wayside with crowns of bright algae on their brows, smiling faces weathered almost smooth.

Despite the cooler shade the temple of cedars provided, Kazuya felt a trickle of sweat roll down the nape of his nape. His arms were beginning to ache from holding his offering of mizuna, but he looked on the task as a substitute for the training routine he'd missed out on this morning. Jun was light on her feet, and he sometimes lost sight of her as she bent around the path up ahead. She flitted in and out of shadows, and between bushes, and behind the trunks of ancient trees. She'd stop occasionally and take out her little knife to cut a swathe of clover or a handful of mushrooms, or to uproot a fat white daikon raddish and clear it of clods of earth and slip it into a small satchel she carried at her belt.

He stopped next to her at one point as she harvested bitter gourds with pimply rough skin. He wondered at the colours and the silence and the light all around him.

"I can see why you missed this." His voice sounded forbidden in these places.

She gave him a warm smile and beckoned him to her level. He crouched and settled the salad leaves on his knees as he squatted next to her.

"Cut with the knife behind the fruit. Go for the light green ones, just tipping yellow in colour."

Kazuya reached between the leaves, moving them aside carefully until he selected a gourd. He slit it free of its stem and handed it to Jun. She placed it in her satchel. They continued on like that for some time, Kazuya cutting the fruits away and Jun checking them before storing them.

"How do you prepare them?" Kazuya asked.

"I like them raw in a salad, but my mother always adds them to a soup, or fries it up. A good goya will wake you up when the heat of summer makes you sleepy."

"It will?"

She shrugged,

"According to my mother. My grandmother, however, said the only thing for fatigue was rigorous exercise to fight it off. If you dozed off whilst practising calligraphy, she'd haul you off to the dojo and watch you do two hours of kata." Jun laughed.

"She sounds like a formidable woman."

"She was a good teacher. The head of our style for many years. My father was very reluctant to take over from her when she said she wished to retire. She asked him if he intended to ask her to keep teaching him aiki-jujutsu from beyond the grave. She said he'd make an angry ghost of her if he didn't take up the mantle."

Kazuya smiled a little wistfully.

"Very different from the Mishima way," he said, but was surprised to find the usual hate that came with those recollections was absent. "We've never waited to inherit anything. We've always taken it before our time."

"So you're the head of your style now?" She asked.

"_Head._" He laughed a little bitterly, "I'm the only practitioner."

She frowned slightly.

"What about Chaolan?"

"He does some too. But he picked up some other moves whilst he was studying abroad. And father never let him learn the advanced katas for Mishima Ryu."

Jun's expression darkened.

"Why not teach him then, if your father is dead?"

"Teach Chaolan?" Kazuya said, amused, "He'd never let me. He's far too proud. And besides, he's already a master at integrating his new styles in with the old. He enjoys perverting our father's karate as a kind of 'fuck you' to him. And he's probably still hurt about the whole affair anyway. You know how he is: a thousand emotions all at once with efficiency on the top, only dwarfed by the need to look aesthetically suave."

Jun settled herself crosslegged in the dirt.

"You care a lot for him."

"Didn't at first. Kind of grew into it when we realised there was no escaping each other. Now it's something of a reassurance, knowing there's someone else who went through it all. Well, almost all." She waited for him to elaborate. He sat back in the dirt too. He picked up all the salad leaves and dumped them next to him. He tugged at his tank top. It was sticking to him with sweat. He glanced at Jun, who blushed and quickly looked away from his chest. He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? See something you like, Officer Kazama?"

"Nope." She was still looking decidedly elsewhere, blushing furiously. A smirk slid onto his face and he reached out a finger to her chin, turning her head back to him. She was beet red and flustered, but met his eyes steadily.

"Then why are you blushing?" he asked softly. "Look if you want to look. I don't mind."

Her eyes fixed on his, then slowly travelled over his form. He pulled his tank top over his head and tossed it to one side. It wouldn't be the well-muscled chest that would catch her attention, he knew. Her eyes widened and he saw a flicker of hesitation in her. He remained still, letting her see. She reached her hand out and glanced up at him. He nodded and she touched the jagged red scar running diagonally across his whole torso. He closed his eyes and focussed on feel of her fingers moving over his chest, tracing the line of the scar with a careful gentleness. She spread her hand and pressed harder, and he let himself be pushed back until he lay on the ground. He could feel his heart racing and wondered if she could too. He open his eyes lazily. She sat astride him and settled her weight on his stomach. She continued exploring his chest with her fingers, moving her hand appreciatively over his muscles.

"Ask."

"How?"

"When I was a child. Five-years-old. My father."

"He did this to you?! When you were a child?!" Repulsion and fury like he didn't think Jun capable of turned her face into a terrible picture.

"That cliff I said I threw him off. Not the most practical solution. But… it was… important to me…that it be the same one."

"The same…" Dismay and anger joined her fury and were so vivid that Kazuya feared for anyone who truly evoked that ire in her. "Your father threw you off a _cliff_? When you were a _child_?" His eyes flicked to elsewhere. There was a reason he didn't go around telling this story. There was something embarrassing about the whole affair, something shameful about admitting this weakness. "There's nothing shameful about it!" Jun snapped, as if his emotions had been spoken out loud. "The only shame belongs to Mishima Heihachi!" Fractions of a grimace made a vague appearance on his face. The shame wasn't just at being beaten as a child, but at the years of fear that came afterwards. For every step that built up the walls of his anger and rage, there had been a small, frightened boy somewhere inside. He'd never let anyone know about that. Chaolan knew of course, but by merit of being a similar wreck himself, never because Kazuya had let him in. Jun's hand cupped his cheek. "I'm sorry," she said.

"There's no point you being sorry."

"Someone ought to be. And you can't hear it from him. So let me say it."

He closed his eyes again and laid his head back on slightly spongy moss.

"It's been avenged. That chapter is finally over. He can't hurt anyone any more."

She stroked his cheek.

"Then why do you let him?" Kazuya's eyes snapped open. Jun continued stroking his cheek. "Don't be angry, just think about it. So much of what you do is because you still feel his shadow everywhere. It's time to let it go. To let him go. And let all the hurt he's done go. As long as you're wound up with all this hate and rage, whatever that is inside you will continue to control you."

Kazuya was breathing fast through his nose. He could feel himself teetering between the urge to shut down and swear and pull out a cigarette and walk off down the hill, and the smaller, quieter urge to stay with her and see how this played out. He steadied himself and drew in a breath. The smell of damp earth and ozone rich air and a thousand tropical plants filled his nostrils.

"So help me let go of the past, Kazama. Make some new memories with me to chase away my daddy issues." He said this all in a manner sultry enough to send Jun flaming red again.

"K-Kazuya, I was being serious."

"Am I not?" He liked the way she said his name like that. Flustered Jun was fast becoming one of his new favourite types of Jun.

"You know," she shifted and let her full weight sink onto him, causing him to expel a huff of air in surprise, "the more I get to know your brother, the more I see he's got all these brooding dark moods like you. And the more I get to know you, the more I see you've got the same outrageously flamboyant attitude he has."

"Please don't bring my brother up whilst I'm thinking of kissing you. It really kills the mood."

"Oh? You were thinking of kissing me?"

"I was thinking of a lot more than that, but it seemed inappropriate to say so."

Jun's eyebrows shot up. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest was rising and falling quickly. She leaned forward and kissed him, pinning his arms above his head as she did. Her lips were hot against his. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and his eyelids fluttered when she sucked on his tongue and then curled her own around his. They pulled apart a few moments later for breath. Kazuya could feel her pressed up against him.

"Am I getting a Kazama Ryu lesson at the same time?" He said nodding at the pin she still held him in. She let him go and ran her hands back through his hair. He breathed out deeply as her fingers alternately tugged and caressed as they pulled through his hair. His hands went to her shirt, flicking impatiently at the hem.

"Something you want, Mr Mishima?"

His eyes were dusky again and he settled for fixing her with a look that was all lust. He saw her breathe a little faster. She sat back again, but this time started undoing the buttons on her shirt. He stared, transfixed as she slid out of it. She reached around her back and unclasped her bra, letting that drop to the side too. All his playfulness turned to wonder as he looked at her with the golden light moving on her skin and a breath of air shifting her hair. He reached and set his hands on her waist, but paused. She tilted her head in question.

"You saw what I became at the lab. I don't want…" He looked up at her anxiously.

She placed her hands over his and moved them up to cup her breasts.

"It lives in your anger and your fear. We destroy its control by pulling apart those things it thrives on. We make spaces for peace and silence, and quieten those parts of us that are screaming."

"Then it will leave?"

"No. Leaving will take more work. But it will have no power over you at least for a while." It was hard to concentrate on her words with her body under his hands, her nipples pressed into his palms, her heartbeat under his fingertips. "Did you invite it in?" Kazuya looked up quickly. Guilt and shame stewed in him. He said nothing. She nodded, reading the unspoken response there. "I have heard of such spirits. They seek out those in no position to refuse their offers and bind themselves to them, preying upon their emotion of choice, turning their host into something that feeds their insatiable need for more. They are pitiful things, clinging to strong human emotions because they have none of their own."

Kazuya was quiet for a long moment.

"So I won't become that thing? And I won't hurt you?"

She gave him a gentle smile and leaned over and kissed him. The smell of her hair, the pressure of her lips, the feel of her naked skin pushed against his chest vaporised his concerns. Suddenly he was turning them over, kissing her repeatedly whilst finding the drawstring on her cargo pants. She helped him undo it, kicked off her sandals, and wriggled out the remainder of her clothes. They had more difficulty with his jeans.

"Why did you wear steel toe-cap boots, Kazuya?" she murmured against his neck as she dragged his jeans down him.

"Was not clued up on my Yakushima lingo enough to know 'picking mushrooms' was a euphemism."

"You've got time to be a smart arse but not to get these confounded things off?" She ducked out of his arms and unthreaded his laces, tugging off his heavy boots, and then everything else. She came back up trailing kisses up his entire body, making him shiver. He moved his fingers through her hair and felt affection swell large within him. Agitated attempts at peace and trust were stumbling down avenues that had long been closed to anything but single-minded rage. He pulled Jun close and bowed his face into her shoulder. She stroked his hair, then his cheek, then lifted his face and kissed his lips over and over until he stirred and rolled them over again so that her back was in the grass and flattening the stems of the carefully carried mizuna. Then it was his turn to discover her, exploring the curves of her body and the wily strength of her muscles, learning where to touch by the hitches in her breath and the deepness of her sighs, placing his mouth against her skin and feeling her body rise to meet him.

He glanced up from a kiss on her stomach to see her eyes all heavy and pupils blown black and her cheeks flushed. She drew him back up and wrapped her arms around him, shifting her legs and inviting him closer still. A hunger seized him and he set Jun with his eyes. When he saw the hunger there that matched his own, he pushed inside her. Her fingers dug into his back and he breathed through his teeth as he felt her hot around him. She stiffened, and he paused, waiting until he received a light touch on his shoulder that came as another invitation. He began to move and she caught his lips with hers again. He rocked into a fiercer pace, and somewhere a tension and weight that he'd been carrying around with him for years was falling away. He shut his eyes and pressed his brow to hers and they made love under the afternoon light where only the red cedars could see and the golden warmth of late summer moved over their skin in time to the shift of distant wind in the leaves far above.

* * *

**Author Note: **Jun never losing an opportunity to casually chat about her views on demonology and spiritual imbalance.

Please go check out photos of Yakushima if you haven't seen any before – I'll put some up on Twitter (erenaeoth), because it really is worth seeing (apparently also the inspiration behind Miyazaki's Princess Mononoke). I haven't been there myself, so this chapter was part inspired by photographs, and part inspired by the walk I did up Haguro-san in Yamagata, the first of the Dewa Sanzan – three ancient holy mountains that were traditionally walked as part of a Shinto-Buddhist ritual of purification.


	16. Trust and Vulnerability

Kazuya lay on his back on the futon, with a growing dark gathering about him. A towel was wrapped round his waist. He'd just showered off the dirt and sweat and sex and was feeling a fatigue in his bones that was long overdue. He breathed deeply and could smell the pungent waft of soy sauce and sesame oil as dinner was cooked in the next room.

His mobile phone rang. He rolled over, pulled the charger out of it and slid back the cover.

"Mishima Kazuya speaking."

"Hey, Kaz."

Kazuya sat up.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah everything's fine." His brother sounded tired. "I know I said no contact unless there's a problem, but I was in a bit of a dickish mood earlier."

Kazuya reached for his cigarette case. He hesitated, glancing at the old walls and delicate paper panels and careful patterns cut into the woodwork above the doors. He selected a cigarette, got up, and slid a door to the outside open. The cigarette hung unlit in his mouth as he paused. A bleeding red sunset was pouring through the sky, igniting the treetops burnished gold, rushed crimson, and brilliant violet. The tin roofs of the village were awash with colour and the sea beyond was a mirror of raging red with a path of blinding white light where the sun touched the horizon.

"K… Kaz? You there?"

"Yeah." He put the cigarette away and sat on the wooden step outside, watching the sunset.

"Okay…" He could hear uncertainty in Chaolan's voice, like he was having trouble reading his mood. "I was just thinking some things over, and I wanted to apologise. About this morning. Looking back, I think I wanted to hear you telling me not to sleep with Anna. I think I wanted you to get mad and be my conscience for me." There was a pause. "I really do like Jae-suk, and I know I say this every time, but maybe it's different with him, and if it is, I don't want to mess things up by cheating on him, or at least asking him before if he minds a more casual arrangement. And I think in my head, it was easier to make you the bad guy, to make you the one who would stop me, rather than admitting that I didn't want to stop myself."

Kazuya blinked and looked at the phone. He replaced it against his ear.

"I don't mind being the bad guy if that's what you need me for."

"Kaz, you dumbass, I'm trying to apologise here." Chaolan's voice sounded all rife with emotion.

"And I love hearing when you admit you're wrong and I'm right, but I'm not sure this was one of those instances. Jun says I am controlling. She says I control everything but myself."

"Damn. She said that to your face?"

"Mm."

"Good on her. I never would have dared."

"Hey," Kazuya said reproachfully, but without his usual gravity. An easy silence fell between them. Kazuya toyed with his silver cigarette case, spinning it around in his fingers and watching the light flash off it.

"You sound well," Chaolan said at last.

"I feel good."

"I'm glad."

"You stressed?"

"Yeah. But I'm keeping on top of it. Pinned your Brazilian assassination on the victim's kid. I've been talking to Dr Bosconovitch too. I told him he can work one day a week in the new robotics lab once it's finished, on a project of his own, no questions asked, any budget he wants. I hope you don't mind, I thought it would be good to try and get him onside. If we keep him in his current condition and under such a tight watch, he's bound to turn against us big time or collapse from malnourishment. I thought this might be a way to slowly turn him to see our side of things. I know I should have consulted you before-"

"That's fine. Sounds like a good idea. You're always good at offering carrots where I just bring a stick."

"I'm getting compliments now? Who is this new Kazuya?" Kazuya gave a half grin. "Oh fuck," Chaolan said abruptly. Kazuya's smile snapped off.

"What?"

"You got _laid_!" Kazuya's face went flaming red and he turned into a sputtering mess of denial. "I fucking knew it."

"I hate you," Kazuya growled.

"Can't keep anything from your secretary, Kaz."

"Screw secretary, you've been like this since we were children. A fucking mind-reader. I hate it."

"Not a mind-reader, just a Kazuya -reader. About time, to be honest. I thought the two of you were going to do this crazy horny mating ritual forever."

"We were not-… that is _not_ what was happening." His face sunk into a frown as his eyes strayed to the mauve shadows growing long across the flagstone yard. The trees were bending with a harsh wind that was picking up. "I kept fucking things up every time we got close. Pushing her away with some awful new thing she learned about me."

"_Please._ Kaz. She's so clearly been into you practically since the day you met. I've been watching this painfully develop for months. It's a good thing I kept setting the two of you up or-"

"You never did any such thing!" Kazuya put in defensively.

"Ignorance is bliss, big brother. Anyway, we got there. And please tell me you got around to actually mentioning that you want her to be your girlfriend, because she was asking _me_ if the two of you were dating before the State Benefactors Ball."

"Yes," Kazuya grumbled, though he wasn't about to let on how much of a rambling disaster that had turned into. "Wait, she asked you what?"

"Urgh, you're so lucky getting to spend time with her. Jae-suk's not coming until the weekend after next. And meanwhile Anna's dresses are getting shorter and my libido's going sky-"

"You can fire her if you want. Or move her just to security to work with Bruce. Hire your own secretary if that's easier."

"Absolutely not. You were right I'd just hire a pushover who did nothing, and they'd probably be good looking too, then I'd be in the same dilemma but with more work."

"Then I've got nothing. Try think of something that really kills the mood every time she walks into the room?"

"Yeah, great advice," he said with irony. "I'll just imagine father sitting in the corner. Not only an arousement flattener but also a fantastic work motivator, with the only draw back that I'll be a wreck at the end of the day and confine myself to sleeping in a cupboard at night to rid myself of the nightmares." Kazuya didn't say anything to that. "It sucks living alone. I hate not having other people around." Another pause where Kazuya wasn't sure what to say. "I'm moaning because I'm jealous. Probably time to end this call."

"I don't mind."

"I'm glad you're doing well. There's this secondary part of my brain that can relax knowing you're not pissed off."

"Sounds very complicated being you."

"It is. Have a good evening. Call me whenever you want."

"Make sure you take the evenings off."

"Haha, yeah, no. Not going to happen. Night, Kaz."

Kazuya stayed watching the sunset until it sunk into sundry shades of lingering lilac and bruising blues. A light knock on his door informed him dinner was served. He pulled a screen of netting over the open doorway and changed quickly into the summer kimono and dark hakama laid out for him.

Supper was laid out on a low table next to a square firepit in the hearth. A dim electric bulb lit up half the room and an oil lamp gave off a glow for the rest. There was a hum of insects and chirruping crickets and the rattle of wind clacking at loose shutters. A distant boom of thunder tolled in the distance.

Mrs Kazama was ladling soup into bowls, whilst Jun's sisters set the table with salads and tiny dishes of fried vegetables and steaming pots of rice fresh off the fire.

Kazuya knelt at the table, and remembering how Jun had thanked the waiters at the restaurant, nodded every time something was passed to him or set before him.

Jun's littlest sister, Rei, was sitting opposite him, with hair pulled up into a plaited pigtails and a fringe that nearly touched her eyes.

"The mizuna is very good, thank you for collecting it, Mr Mishima."

Kazuya looked up from his food.

"Hm? Oh. It's here? Which bowl is the mizuna?"

Jun passed him a bowl of salad and he transferred some to his bowl with plain, worn chopsticks.

"You picked the goya, as well, is that right?" said the other sister. She had a kimono rolled up over thick biceps and was holding a bowl filled with little cut up gourd pieces.

"Yes, is that it?" She passed Kazuya the bowl. He put a piece in his mouth and screwed up his face at its raw bitterness as it crunched between his teeth. There was laughter at the table that for a fraction made him feel self-conscious and angry, before he saw the warmth in the faces around him. He tipped a few more pieces into his bowl before setting it back down.

"You picked these just right," Jun's mother informed him, and he awkwardly found himself flustered, causing more smiles from her daughters.

"Jun showed me how to choose, I didn't really do anything," he muttered.

"I told you what colour they ought to be, you did all the hard work," Jun said mildly. Kazuya frowned, but Jun's mother was nodding sagely, so he allowed himself to feel a little pleased and gave a slight nod of his head. He put another piece of bitter gourd in his mouth and managed to wince slightly less this time, though Jun's sisters still grinned at his expression.

"Hey," Jun nudged him, "remember when you swore you'd never make a salad."

"I didn't swear that," Kazuya said sullenly, "I just noted it would be extremely unlikely."

"Mr Mishima's never made a _salad_ before?" exclaimed Rei. Kazuya glowered at her, but it didn't have it's usual effect of cowing people. He wondered if every Kazama was immune to his intimidation tactics.

"I don't have time to make salads," he defended.

"But they're so quick and easy to make! How can you not have time to make one?!"

"Rei, let him be now," Jun put in, but her youngest sister was having none of it.

"What _do_ you make if you don't make a salad?"

"A mess of things." Kazuya admitted, which made the others laugh. He found that he didn't mind the laughter at his expense at this table. There was something liberating about being a little self-deprecating around the Kazamas. He allowed himself a small smile and shoulders he hadn't realised he'd tensed relaxed.

* * *

Jun watched Kazuya out the corner of her eyes, hardly daring to believe this was the same man she knew from Tokyo. The kimono had softened his appearance, shedding some of his severity and instead giving him a kind of solemn presence. The usual cloud of hateful rage coursing around him had dwindled to a small flame, and instead he was all controlled gravitas. There was a sort of magnificence to him that made her pulse fly a little faster every time she glanced his way. Her mother caught her eye and raised an eyebrow at her, making Jun blush and look away quickly.

After the meal, her sisters began stacking the empty dishes. She watched Kazuya frown and copy them. Nao and Rei insisted that he should remained seated, but he glowered at them and stacked even more dishes. Jun relieved her sisters and helped Kazuya carry the bowls through to the kitchenette. He frowned again as she began running a sink and filling it with bubbles.

"I'll do that", he said, nodding at the sink.

"Do what?" Jun replied, eyes twinkling.

He searched around the sink until he came upon a hand towel. He looked dubiously at it and then the sink. Jun removed it from his hand and set a flannel there instead. She watched him as he picked up each bowl, laboriously dunking it, washing it, lifting it above the bubbles to inspect it, and redunking it.

"You don't need to spend hours on each one," she told him gently. He glowered at her, but sped up the pace.

When he finally finished he inspected his hands and the watery wrinkles left on his fingertips. She couldn't help but smile, and his customary frown lifted when he saw it.

"Takes a while," he said, nodding at the dishes.

"Mm hm."

"Never realised."

She slipped her hand inside his, glanced behind her to check her family weren't watching, then placed a kiss on his cheek. His eyes immediately swarmed with lust and she shivered at the strength of the hand that settled on the small of her back pulling her in for fuller, more possessive kiss. She broke lip contact and glanced behind herself again.

"I think they know," he murmured against her ear, touching a tongue to her lobe. She shivered again.

"I know they know, but I still don't want them to walk in on us…"

"Chaolan did."

"Chaolan is different."

"Only because he's not _your_ sibling."

She nudged her nose against his jaw, then pressed her face into the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He placed a hand on the back of her hair and rested his chin on the top of her head.

"I enjoyed today," he whispered.

"I bet you did."

"Not just that," he said quickly. "Everything else too."

She sighed and reached her arms around him. When she closed her eyes images sprung unbidden to mind: Kazuya striding into the hospital wing in his long coat, smoking and ordering everyone out, his tone of voice as he told his brother to hand back the phone as Kato Takumi died on the other end of it. Her shoulders quivered.

"What is it?" She shook her head. He'd been trying for her all today, she didn't want to ruin it by bringing up the things about him that frightened her. She thought back to the moment he'd first told her he killed his own father. The hate that had been in his voice made sense now, but it had filled her with a numb dread. She'd filed away that fact and tried not to think too hard about what that meant, to have committed murder with his bare hands, to have struck down the man who raised him regardless of how badly. She curled her shoulders and he held her tighter. "Talk to me," he murmured, brushing her hair from her face. His movements were so gentle it was hard to reconcile what he had done with the man holding her now. "Jun, please."

"Nothing," she whispered. "Let's not talk about it." He cupped her face and turned it up to look at him. His eyes were dark, intense, concerned.

"Something I've done wrong?"

"No," she was quick to respond, "no. You were right. Today was good, today was perfect."

"So…" he said slowly, "this is about every other day." She swallowed. "You know you never have any reason to be afraid of me…" He sounded a little hurt at having to say that out loud.

"I know. But I'm afraid for you. And afraid for everyone else."

"It can be different. Like you said, I don't need to let Heihachi's shadow drive me to more and more extremes. He's gone. I need to protect what I have, not… destroy it with paranoia."

She let out a shuddering sigh and smiled uncertainly.

"But… what does that mean? How will you let that change the Zaibatsu? That scientist you kidnapped, those animals you let be tortured-"

He place a finger on her lips.

"Let's not talk about the Zaibatsu now."

She nudged his finger out the way with her hand.

"That's going on right now, Kazuya. These are lives you're hurting right now."

"I'll figure it out. If we work out how to control this thing inside me, then I won't need all that research done."

"How to get rid of it, you mean, that's what we were trying to do – get rid of this creature inside you, not control it."

"Right. Right, exactly." There was a slight hollowness to his words. She frowned. He stroked her cheek with a thumb. "I'm working on it. Small steps. Give me time." His voice was softer, and more genuine. Her expression cleared. They pulled apart abruptly when footsteps sounded in the next room.

"Jun?" Her little sister put her head round the corner. Jun's set her hair straight and smiled at Rei. "I brought the clothes in because the typhoon's getting closer. Mother said I should ask you to help me with the shutters because otherwise you'll never finish with the dishes." Jun's face flushed crimson, though her sister didn't seem to catch why.

"Yes, of course." She dodged Kazuya's eye and the smirk she knew would already be on his face.

The wind outside was turning wild. Spattering smatters of rain kept turning up with new twisting gusts – rain from miles away – the clouds hadn't even got here yet, but fierce weather always came upon Yakushima fast. She and Rei leaned all their weight against the shutters to hold them down as they bolted out the buffeting wind. Heavy wood doors were slid across all the paper walls and a hefty wooden arm was lowered against the front door for extra support.

"I've missed this," she whispered to her sister as they shut out the storm.

"I've missed you," Rei said without missing a beat. Jun wrapped her in a hug and held her as they listened to the snapping wind skittering and tearing outside. Booming rolls of thunder broke out over the island. They listened from the safety of their home. "Grandma used to say the storms are biggest on Yakushima because the mountains are full of spirits who come out the ground to stand and scream at the sky on summer nights. Her stories used to terrify me."

"Grandma said a lot of things that little children didn't need to hear."

"She told me that her father wouldn't teach her Kazama Ryu, so her brother taught her in secret, and once a boy was rude to her on a school bus and she punched him so hard his tooth came out, and after that, her father said he'd train her."

"Sounds about right."

"I'm glad father always let us train with him," Rei said, snuggling closer in Jun's arms.

"He was raised by Grandma, there's no way he'd ever have an attitude like that." They were quiet as they listened to the storm grow closer. There was a hiss as rolls of rain moved in sheets, drumming down on the roof and filling their ears with a low, dull roar.

"Did you really see father again?" Rei asked. Her voice was quiet in the creaking house. Jun shifted, then nodded. Rei pulled back a little, her youthful face bright and innocent. "What was he like? Was he sad like the stories say they are?"

"Not sad." Jun was thoughtful. "Distant. Removed from the concerns of this world. Like an ember spat out from a fire that has been returned to the furnace. At one with something larger, somewhere he belongs."

Rei looked dismayed.

"Didn't he say anything?"

Jun shook her head.

"He did not need to. He was beyond a veil. He walks on the other side. Climbing the mountains peacefully, like he did in life."

"Can I see him?"

"Maybe one day." Jun touched the centre of her sister's forehead. "But that depends on whether you can see here."

"I don't understand."

Jun smiled at her.

"Isn't it your bed time? You have school tomorrow."

"I'm not a child, Jun."

"Yes, you are." She kissed Rei on the forehead where she'd put her finger. "And that's no bad thing. Having a childhood is a precious thing, don't be in such a rush to dismiss it." Rei was still giving her a stubborn, uncertain look. "Growing up is full of awful things, like electricity bills, and finding a job, and tiptoeing around companies that claim to be progressive but don't really want a woman working for them. And what's worse is that giving them a good fist to the face doesn't solve anything, it just upsets their fragile egos."

Rei snickered and Jun joined her. After she said goodnight to her sister. Jun went back to her room. It was just the way she'd left it some years before, save for a few suitcases she hadn't finished unpacking. A large contour map of Yakushima was framed on the wall, and next to it another of Wakayama. She liked having the wilderness spread up there in lines to navigate with her eyes. Perhaps she should get one of Tokyo to join them – the last wilderness she'd traversed and survived. Thunder boomed overhead and the intermittent sheets of rain became a continuous downpour, clattering through the bamboo gutters on the side of the house and slapping the earth that she knew would be thick mud within the hour.

She rolled up her futon and summer sheet and bundled them into her arms. The storm had hastened the dusk and turned the house very dark. An oil lamp hung on a peg in the main room beyond hers. She slid her door open a crack and checked beyond it. There was quiet. She stepped out, keeping her feet silent on the tatami. She closed the door behind her and padded to the next room. She let herself in and slid this behind her too. Kazuya was sitting on his bedding in just hakama, lamplight catching the definition in his muscled chest and highlighting the angles in his face. His eyebrows were raised.

Jun said nothing. She unrolled her futon and laid it next to his. She spread her sheet and curled up under it, facing away from Kazuya. Moments later his fingers were snaking over her, finding the hem of her yukata, loosening it and a running hand down her thigh. She moved with his touch and shuffled back until his warm body was against hers. She felt Kazuya's breath hot on the back of her neck.

"I've never heard rain like this before," he breathed into her hair.

"Because you never listen."

"It rains harder in Yakushima than in Tokyo."

"It rains harder in Yakushima than anywhere else on earth." She rolled round in his arms. He drew the sheet up to cover them both. She touched her nose to his chest. His hands were moving again and she could feel their rough callouses as they bared her skin. She heard his breathing soften, almost like he'd been waiting for her before he could breathe steadily again. In the dark she couldn't see his scars, or the muscles he'd built in a lifetime of rigorous training, or his inherited sharp Mishima eyebrows and fearsome intense eyes. He was just a heartbeat, close to hers: a human, a person, breathing quietly under the belly of a thunderstorm.

The room lit with the splinter of lightening blinking through the shutters. Thunder broke a few seconds later tolling like a bell across the island. Jun closed her eyes and focussed on the fingers that were tracing over her skin, pausing and testing with a gentle, thorough, patience. There was something very Kazuya about the inquiry: like his expression when he was scouring a report, going over all the fine details, making sure he missed nothing. And there was something intoxicating about being the sole focus of his attention. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers found their way to curls of hair between her legs. He reached further, and by the next flash of lightening she could see his face, intently watching her expressions and stuttering breaths in the darkness as he experimented with touches that gave her the most pleasure. She bit her lip and rolled her face into his arm as his fingertips found a particularly sensitive spot. She felt his breath on her ear.

"Not good?"

"V-very good," she replied brokenly. She felt him laugh softly and realised he'd asked just to hear how unsteady her voice was. She attempted to give him a sullen scowl, but all coherent thought fled her under his continual, attentive inspection. She was only faintly aware of how much more laboured her breathing got as Kazuya worked his fingers between her legs. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she lifted her hips to deepen his touch. At some point she could hear her own voice stammering his name and at another, she had rolled him over and kissed him fiercely, causing him make a muffled sound of pleasant surprise. Then she'd seized control of the situation and sunk down onto him so that he hissed with barely controlled pleasure. She moved on him until his breathing matched her own. Through the haze of her passion she could feel the taut aggression and control in the powerful muscles beneath her give in to something more carefree and wild. His body lost some of its tenseness for an abandon and enjoyment. His hands forgot all their old violence and moved over her with a kind of perpetual wonder. The thunderstorm and slashing rain covered the sounds of their heaving breaths and gasped delight as they discovered each other again in the darkness and the wildness of the night.

When they'd spent themselves and lay exhausted in tangled sheets, Jun reached out for Kazuya and he bowed his forehead to her shoulder. In the complete blackness, there was no one to see that vulnerability. And Jun knew it was important to him that not even she saw it. This was enough though – to feel it, to know that he was saying that this was the closest he'd ever let another human being come to him. When he finally fell asleep, it was with his arms wrapped tightly about her, his hair soft for once, and in disarray as it spilled onto her shoulder. The sound of his slow, even, breathing lulled her into a safe haven. She thought back to long nights in Tokyo where her stomach had ached from hunger, and just the thought of seeing him again had bolstered her resolve. And now she could have this. This closeness, this tenderness that a whole world had told her did not exist – _could _not exist in a man like Mishima Kazuya. The rain had reduced to a steady drumming and was only intermittently interrupted by the soft boom of thunder. When she slept it was deep and dreamless and at peace.

* * *

Kazuya awoke in half stages, unsure where he was. He blinked at a thin shaft of daylight that was striding over his eyes. He clicked his fingers vaguely to make the automatic blinds close. When nothing happened he slid back into a restless sleep. He was aware of a weight on his arm which was very disorientating. At first he thought his brother had curled up next to him after another nightmare, but that couldn't be right, because they had separate apartments now. Then he slipped back into another slumber, this time punctuated by guilty dreams as Chaolan called for him, and kept saying that he was lonely and afraid, and why did Kazuya keep making him go back to Heihachi's house. And in his dream he kept telling Chaolan that the nightmare was over, Heihachi was dead, but Chaolan kept asking him why they were in a dream if the nightmare was really over. When he awoke the third time, he opened his eyes and saw Kazama Jun sprawled next to him, hair all fanned out over his arm and the pillow, mouth slightly parted with a tiny drop of drool on her lower lip, naked breasts rising and falling with her breath in the glow of morning. That woke him up abruptly and his hands of their own accord moved to touch her. She stirred in her sleep murmuring his name as she did. He decided he liked her saying his name like that almost as much as he liked hearing it at her moment of climax. These thoughts stirred him to a different kind of awake, and he rolled onto his side, kissing at her ear and trailing his hands over her body.

"Kazuya," she mumbled his name more audibly and put her hand on his face. He put his tongue out and licked her palm. She made a noise of vague protest. He enveloped two of her fingers in his mouth and sucked on them as his other hand stroked her more attentively. She squeaked in surprise at that and pulled her hand back, frowning sleepily up at him and not looking at all authoritative. He gave her a wicked grin.

"Make any more noise and your dear sisters will run in to see what all the fuss is about," he whispered.

Jun's eyes widened. Kazuya bent and kissed a bare nipple, gold in the stripes of morning light. She gasped.

"K-kazuya!" she hissed, "they'll hear!"

"Not if you're very quiet," he murmured against her flesh and looked up at her through half asleep lashes and renewed lust. She pulled the pillow out from behind her head and threw it at him.

"Come on. We have to get up."

He rolled sullenly onto his back.

"_I _don't have to get up. I'm on holiday." Jun sat up and felt around for her yukata. "You look better without it," he informed her. She threw the pillow at him again. He caught it this time and threw it back at her. It hit her head and mussed up the hair she'd just been trying to comb with her fingers. He grinned at the sight, then ducked as she grabbed at him, and he rolled athletically out of reach.

They sat down at breakfast looking tired and dishevelled. Jun kept yawning as she helped herself to food and Kazuya gave her a smirk every time she did. She scowled at him.

"Did Rei already leave?" Jun asked her other sister.

"Yep. School bus left ten minutes ago. She knocked on your door but you must have been asleep."

Jun's eyes widen a little, then she coughed slightly, and bent her attention very closely to serving breakfast. Kazuya gave her another wicked grin. She elbowed him for the trouble.

"Might you stop by the dojo today?" Nao asked, apparently not noticing all the glowering and jabbing happening on the other side of the table.

"Hm?" Jun looked up, "Yes, perhaps. Are you teaching all day today?"

"Just this afternoon, after school hours. I only have children's classes today."

Jun hesitated just for a second. Kazuya immediately knew he was the reason why. Jun gave her sister a quick smile.

"I'll see. Today might not be a good day. I'll let you know."

Kazuya turned to her later whilst they were washing the dishes.

"You can go to the dojo if you like, I'll entertain myself for the afternoon."

"I'd like you to come," she said, surprising him. "I just wanted to make sure it's the right time for you to come. Children are a lot of fun to teach, but they can be wearing on patience…" She left unsaid the silent implication of that sentence.

"I wouldn't ever hurt a child," he said, more fiercely than he meant to. His thoughts had gone to how enormous and terrifying the world was from a child's-eye-view: how unstoppable an adult was when you were small; how heavy their fists were; how powerful their kicks.

"You don't always mean to hurt those that you do," she cautioned gently.

"This is different. He had to force me to hurt Chaolan when we were small."

Pain stirred in her eyes, and he immediately regretted hurting her by bringing it up, before he remembered that she felt the things he felt, and that was not her pain in her eyes but his. He turned away.

"Okay," she said and slid her hand into his and touched her fingertips to his, all wrinkly from the washing up. "We'll go to the dojo together this afternoon." And all the ghosts of uncertainty had gone from her. Her trust in him just then meant more than anything else he could think of.

By the afternoon it was still too warm for a coat, but intermitted scatters of rain kept flinging themselves upon him. He'd opted just to stick with a tank top and jeans, refusing Jun's repeated offers to lend him a poncho. She was in a kharki waterproof that came down to her knees and wellington boots and a straw hat.

"I don't care how unattractive it looks," she told him, "it's raining and I'm dressing appropriately, unlike some vain people I know."

"You look like someone's grandfather who's been lost at sea for twenty years," he said around a cigarette that was in danger of being smothered by wind and rain.

"And you look like a city slicker who doesn't know the first thing about practicality."

His jeans got soaked before they got half way to the dojo, and the mud had ruined his shoes and tracked up his legs. He pulled a face at his appearance. Whilst Jun was preoccupied asking after a neighbour she'd met on the street corner, Kazuya beckoned forward the bodyguard who'd been following a few paces behind him.

"What was that?" Jun turned to him sharply when she'd finished, eyes narrowing as the bodyguard hurried off back up the street.

"He's just giving us our space. Quality time."

"You better not have sent him back to get you a suit, Mishima Kazuya."

"You know," he smoked against a rickety lamppost and lifted his shoes distastefully free of the roadside mud with a gurgling _plop_. "It is universally the case, that people say my name with either awed respect or fear. And yet whenever it comes out your mouth, you make it sound like an insult."

"If you weren't so infantile all the time, maybe I'd say your name a little differently," she huffed.

He leaned forward and gave her a look, all sultry and dusky.

"I liked how you were saying it last night."

She went scarlet and pushed him. He nearly over balanced in the mud and had to hold the lamppost to catch himself. She stalked on up the road, head held imperiously high. Kazuya grinned and followed her.

The clouds were mulling dark and trees were bending in a strong, fresh wind when they reached the dojo. It was at the top of a street on the edge of the village, with one storey houses trailing away from it down to the sea front, and an empty winding road that followed the coast beyond. The dojo had a thick thatch roof that leant out far enough on all sides to provide some cover from the elements. Jun looked him up and down.

"Don't say I told you so," he blew out a line of smoke that distorted in the wind and was snatched away.

She shook her head and unpopped her anorak, stepped out of her boots, took off her hat, and shook glossy hair free. Kazuya watched her, eyes moving unashamedly over her figure. She pointed a finger at him in silent warning. He held up his hands, protesting innocence.

"You better stay here until those new clothes arrive. There's a changing room around the back you can use."

He scowled at her and she gave him an unsympathetic shrug, and stepped inside.

Twenty minutes later he was in a new shirt, buttoned to a lazy half way in the heat, an open waistcoat, and loose slacks, with gleaming white pair of trainers on his feet and his old red sparring gloves hung about his neck.

He reached for his silver cigarette case,

"Take these away. I keep smoking them and I want to quit." He handed the case to his bodyguard. "But fill it up. It's almost empty."

"Sir?" The man said, a little confused.

Kazuya waved his hand dismissively at him. He was careful as he stepped out of the changing room, hugging the wall to keep his trainers clean. He hesitated before the dojo door. It was always a strange feeling walking into someone else's dojo – a sacred space that felt like it was being trespassed into. He slipped off his shoes then slid the door open. He bowed, then entered. The school was split, half wooden floor, half tatami. It housed a dozen children in blue gis with white or yellow belts about their waists, all of whom paused as he entered and bowed as one. Jun and Nao stood in blue gis of their own and black belts. Jun raised an eyebrow at him, then spoke to the class.

"This is Renshi Mishima, he is a guest of our dojo today." Jun bowed to him, "Thank-you for your expertise, Renshi."

All the children bowed to him again and repeated Jun's formal welcome. Kazuya bowed to them, then stood and watched.

"Again. Exercise five. Begin."

The students turned in two lines to face each other. The left line all stepped forward to throw their punches, the second line tracked the punch with a hand, leaning back to take the momentum out of it, then throwing their weight forward, locking up their opponent's arm and throwing them backwards. About half the pupils flipped out of the lock in high breakfalls to land on the mats, a couple more went straight down on their knees, one looked dubiously behind himself, thought about the fall then backed out of it, and a final pupil stood looking at their arm and then looking back at their partner. Kazuya watched as Jun went first to the boy who seemed uncertain of himself. She gave him a quiet instruction, but Kazuya recognised the look of stubborn petulance on the boy's face. Jun went on to the last pupil to correct the lock that wasn't being put on correctly.

Kazuya kept his eye on the sullen boy. Jun's sister was nodding as she passed through the lines of the students, pointing out places for improvement. The sullen boy scuffed his feet, waiting impatiently whilst his teachers sorted out the rest of the class. He looked up and noticed Kazuya watching him. The boy meandered over to him.

"Pay attention to your teachers," Kazuya told him. The boy glared from under tousled hair. That expression was all too familiar to Kazuya from the mirror.

"Sensei Kazama says I have to go straight down if I can't do the breakfall," his voice was petulant, and clearly expecting Kazuya to say otherwise.

"Then you best do just that."

"But I want to do the breakfall!" the boy sulked.

"Then do it," Kazuya heard himself say. "You looked back. Stop second guessing and do it. And if you don't have the guts, stop whining about it and find another way. If you do nothing you'll get your wrist broken."

Jun finished with her student and turned around. Kazuya took an instinctive step back. She gave him a questioning look, he bowed his head slightly. She nodded and returned her attention to the class.

Jun's sister, Nao, came over to Kazuya's side.

"I meant no disrespect by interfering," he said to her.

"Higashi is always causing trouble, don't worry," Nao returned. Her hair was pulled out of her face into a practical ponytail, and she'd crossed well-muscled arms across her chest inside her tough, navy gi.

Kazuya shifted uneasily.

"Trouble like what?"

Nao waited until the students were engaged in their next task before talking in a low voice.

"It's just a confidence thing, I think. He's always trying to prove himself, but gets agitated when it comes to the more complicated moves. He has all the technical ability, but then he just stops. I suggest something easier for him to do, like Jun did just there, and he throws a tantrum."

Kazuya shifted again. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, then opened it, then closed it. He watched the sullen boy toeing the tatami and looking furious.

"Well, maybe it's a trust problem," he said at last. He clenched his jaw tight, irritated at himself for having spoken.

Nao looked at him.

"How do you mean?"

"He wants to do the difficult move, but he doesn't trust his teacher, so he doesn't trust that he's not going to hurt himself. He wants to learn, but self-preservation and lack of trust make it difficult for him."

Nao nodded pensively, looking back at the boy. Kazuya's insides were crawling. He was glad he wasn't having this conversation with Jun.

"Are you comfortable teaching high breakfalls?" she asked him.

"I don't teach," Kazuya said abruptly. "And this is your style. I am a karate-ka."

"Falling is hardly a secret art. If you'd be willing and Jun allows it, perhaps you could help Higashi."

"I've never taught anyone before," Kazuya's words came out stiffer than he meant them to. "I wouldn't want to do it wrong."

"That's alright. It's not so difficult to do. Think about how you were taught – what you found useful. Try and convey that to the-"

"I didn't have a good teacher." That came out quiet. Kazuya stared straight forward, fixing his eyes on a plain stretch of wall on the far side of the dojo.

Nao frowned next to him, but her words were calm. She reminded him of Jun.

"If you'd rather not, that's fine. It was only a suggestion. You seemed quick to pick up on the possible problem, so I only thought you might be able to get through to him." Kazuya was unresponsive. Nao moved to turn back to her class.

"Ask Jun. I'll do it if she says I should."

Kazuya soon found himself with a corner of the dojo to himself, standing in his socks and three piece suit looking down on a sullen boy who's hair stuck up at all angles. He hadn't spent much time with children before. The boy was young and scrawny. Not as young has Kazuya had been when he'd been thrown off that cliff, and not as scrawny as Chaolan had been when he was first brought into Kazuya's life. That was about the limit of Kazuya's assessment. There hadn't been other children in his childhood. There had just been the Mishima estate, and servants, and businessmen he had to greet from his father's side. He'd given them all a half snarl of a welcome, much like this boy was giving him now.

"Why do I have to go in the corner and get special training? I can do anything the others can do." The boy stared accusingly at him.

"Idiot," Kazuya said. The boy blinked in surprise. "You want to go back to learning in a class with eleven others, be my guest. You'd learn ten times faster in a one-on-one class, but sure. Off you go if that's what you want." The boy scowled at the floor but didn't move. "You want to learn or what?"

"Yes."

"They teach you manners on Yakushima?"

"Yes, Sensei Mishima."

"Show me your breakfall."

"Which one, Sensei Mishima?"

"How about the one you f-… messed up two seconds ago."

The boy took a few steps back. He held his arm horizontal across his chest, jumped and rolled shoulder to hip, coming up perfectly to stand ready. He bowed to Kazuya.

"So what's the big deal?"

"Huh?"

"You can do it. So why not do it when someone's locking your wrist?"

The boy huffed and folded his arms.

"It's just different." His brow knitted and he said nothing more.

Kazuya sighed with impatience.

"Look, it's a class. You've got experienced teachers looking at you every second. What's the big deal?" The boy glared harder at the floor. "So, you're worried about something going wrong, is that it? Trust me, the way the locks are being put on in this dojo isn't even enough to break your wrist. It has to go on much harder and faster to snap the wrist bone." The boy looked up at him, eyes still sullen, but interested.

"How do you mean?"

"Gently applying a lock gives control. To really snap the bone there has to be much more sudden pressure."

"Have you ever snapped someone's bone like that?"

Kazuya winced as he thought back on an argument he and Chaolan had had in their later teenage years.

"Yes, but I was being reckless."

"Did you ever get your arm broken like that?"

Heihachi's enormous hand was tight on his wrist. He was calmly informing a seven-year-old Kazuya that unless he got the roll right his arm would be broken. Kazuya had worn a sling for six weeks.

"Again, yes, but that's also beside the point."

"So it's really dangerous!" the boy exclaimed.

"Listen here," Kazuya said sharply, making the boy jump. He crouched down next to the boy, he pointed at Jun, "that's the head of your style. I've seen her save a man's life, and I've seen her disarm a hostage taker who had her at gun point, I've seen her put herself on the line again and again to stop people getting hurt. No one gets hurt when your Sensei Kazama is around. Everyone gets to to go home. Everyone gets to walk away."

The boy turned and looked at Jun with a new light in his eyes.

"She took out a guy with a _gun_?" he asked.

"That's what I said."

"What a fucking badass."

"Exactly. Clean your mouth out. Trust your teacher. Stop making up lame excuses when you're good student."

The boy's face was still all awe and not listening at all. He ran off without another word to Kazuya. Kazuya remained crouched as he watched the boy hover around Jun, getting under her feet until she turned to him and he begged her to show him the lock one more time so that he could practice his falls with her.

* * *

**Author Note: **Grandma Kazama is based on my grandma. She didn't learn martial arts. But her brother did teach her how to box and she did punch a guy on the school bus when he was rude to her.

And it does in fact rain more on Yakushima than almost anywhere else on earth. It has one of the world's highest annual precipitations. Also high breakfalls are tough I feel this little kid's anxiousness.

Thanks for your continued reviews and comments! Hearing your thoughts as I release chapters is really useful :)


	17. Absolution

The incense was thick and overpowering, stifling his senses and flooding his mind. Kazuya sat cross-legged in his gi bottoms watching as the dojo slowly filled with white, acrid smoke. Through the curling tendrils, he could see Jun, also cross-legged. Her eyes were closed in concentration. Her hair fluttered about her in a wind that did not exist. Kazuya experienced a flicker of uncertainty. There was something very controlled and certain in her posture. Something a little frightening.

She opened her palms on her knees, then reached down and picked up a stick hung with bells. Kazuya's lip twitched just at the sound of its shuffling jingle as she lifted it. She stood slowly raising her arms. Her hand with the bells twisted. The clang of tiny bells broke through the silence but was abruptly swallowed by the clouds of incense fogging up the room. Kazuya felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Jun continued on with the motion of her hands, raising them in a circle above her head, then sweeping her arms to the side. The jangle rang out again, and this time, beyond the dojo walls, a drone started up: the slow moan of a sho mouthorgan sifted through the haze, accompanied by a high, clear haunting flute.

Kazuya's nostrils flared. Foreign but familiar thoughts stirred within him: old hates that he knew, and yet weren't entirely his. He was calm, but at the same time could feel rage coursing through him. He frowned, wondering how many other times this anger inhabiting him had joined itself to his own. How many times had he lashed out with more than just his own frustration. Now a real anger surged in him. The idea that his own rage hadn't entirely been his own, that he might have been manipulated, that things he had done might not be his responsibility alone, filled him with fury.

"That will feed it, Kazuya."

Jun's voice came insubstantial through the smoke. He flinched as another ring of the bells shimmered in the air, punctuating the mournful song of the flute and the slow, mutating drone of the sho. The veins on his arms were standing out dark and violet. He looked up, trying to find Jun in the dense incense, but the clouding smoke obscured everything. He tried to control the throbbing pace of his pulse. He couldn't shake an overwhelming feeling of being caged, trapped, alone.

**But you have not been alone in quite some time.**

He froze. His muscles tensed. He could feel a sweat starting to break out on his skin. There had been a voice. A voice within him but not of him.

**You are disrupting our arrangement.**

He had heard this voice before. A long, long time ago. So long ago, it had dulled from his memory.

**Do not let her do this. It will sow the seeds of weakness inside you. It will be your downfall.**

Kazuya sat rooted to the spot, eyes flicking wildly, looking for a source that he knew he would not find. The flute increased in pitch, and the punctuating jingle of the bells Jun shook filled his ears.

**You need me. You live on borrowed time. Time I have given to you. Your strength is my strength. **

The air thickened around him, and Kazuya could feel the incense pouring into his lungs and stinging his throat and nose. The dirge beyond the dojo walls continued slow and monotonous. He caught occasional glimpses of shadows in the smoke as Jun moved about him, bells clattering as she danced.

_He was standing in his apartment in Tokyo. The sun was just starting to set. He'd lost Jun a week ago and Chaolan the week before that. The edge of his temper had been constantly raw and every small failure he encountered grated against him. He'd been lashing out and reining himself in, in taut cycle that kept repeating itself every day since they'd gone. Despite his utmost attempt at self-control, people around him were more frightened than they'd ever been before. He could see it in their eyes, and smell it on them as they backed trembling out of his presence. No matter what he did, he could not rid himself of the terror that followed him. There was no one who would stand in a room with him longer than a moment. And the emptiness and solitude were so long and so wide that his fury kept building and that kept driving everyone further and further from him. It came out in an explosion of hate and hurt, and he tore through his apartment, clawing everything with his talons, tearing up the walls, burning everything he touched until the world stunk of destruction and ruin. He looked at the wreckage about him. He glared at a window and it shattered under the intensity of his vision in a blast of red light. He was jumping out the broken window and instead of plunging down, leathery wings beat the air and he was rising, rising, and still screaming his anger to the rising moon._

The dojo looked smaller. From his vantage point in the rafters it was insignificant. The thick incense was burning him. The clattering bells and the whining meander of music jarred against his bones. He beat the air about him with his wings, sending furls of smoke curling away from him. He hissed as the loathsome jangle of bells struck again through the air.

_He was standing in the concrete yard of the Zaibatsu genetics laboratory. Staring at the gun held to Kazama Jun's head. His inside were howling with fury. _

He glared down into the gloom of the dojo, igniting the smokey air with a sizzling burst of red light, that scored up the wooden walls, leaving a black smouldering line.

_He was kneeling on the floor of another dojo, furious that his brother had managed to kick him to the ground. He was standing to his full height, basking in the sheer terror in his brother's eyes. He batted him aside with an easy strike that tore into his shoulder and threw Chaolan into the wall. When he slumped down he left a smear of blood behind him. Chaolan got unsteadily to his feet – he was backing away, hands spread in submission, he was saying something, pleading. His next attack raked across his brothers stomach. And now the fear was intensifying in Chaolan's eyes. He got back up and this time raised his fists. Chaolan struck a blow that glanced harmlessly off chitinous armour, then threw a kick. He caught Chaolan's leg and threw him into the dojo shrine, shattering the photograph of his grandfather. He towered over his brother who raised his arms to protect his head, mouth opening in a scream as beams of red light burned lacerations over his exposed forearms. His brother was dragging himself into a corner, clutching his bleeding stomach and trying to hunch into the shadows. He was flinching with every footstep that was taken closer to him, and crying earnestly now._

Kazuya hesitated, disturbed and confused at the images coming to him. He looked down at his talons and the hardened purple skin of his arms. He touched his chest, feeling the riveted armoured muscle under his claws.

_He was standing in his office, hearing the fourth report of the day telling him that Zaibatsu shares were falling. The man before him wore a smart suit but was visibly shaking as he delivered the news. A radio in the corner was chatting through the news headlines. He heard the line: "The Mishima Zaibatsu has entered its darkest period in years, leading many to hope that Mishima Heihachi will resurface, take back his company, and save the country from the iron grip of his ruthless son." He lost the last shreds of his cool and flung himself on the employee before him. He sunk his claws through his flesh, pinning writhing limbs of the screaming man in place. He beat his wings in the air and lifted the man a few feet from the ground before locking eyes with him and burning lasers through the man's eye sockets and out the other side of his skull. Smouldering black fleshy holes were left where eyes had been. Reeking smoke furled out the burned skull like a soul ascending skyward. The body went limp, hung on his talons like a carcass on meat hooks._

Kazuya snarled and whipped the air with his tail, furious at the forced foreign memories whirling through his mind and the clang of the bells below and the wail of the flute and the spine-rattling tremor of the sho and the flurry of white incense billowing through the air.

_He was in a boardroom meeting on a high floor of the Zaibatsu Tower. He was standing looking down on the city, whilst the room behind him murmured with the buzz of conversation. They thought he wasn't listening. They were talking about how he didn't have much of a head for business, about how it was too soon for someone so young to inherit so much. One man was noting how the Mishima heir had spent more time in underground fighting tournaments in the last few years than he had attending universities. He was turning to the room, and stepping up to the long table. Everyone at the table was a man over fifty in a grey suit. Under his steady gaze they slowly all fell silent. Some even looked uncomfortable. He was walking calmly around to the man who had last spoken. He was grabbing him by the throat and throwing him through a door. He was following as the door clicked shut behind him. The man was scrabbling to get upright and was apologising now. He'd kicked him to keep him on his knees. He'd seen his own reflection in the man's glasses: a third eye opening on his forehead, horns growing from his temples, flesh hardening and discolouring. He'd torn the man's windpipe out before he had a chance to scream then punched through the man's chest and squeezed until the thick pounding walls of his heart stopped beating._

He recoiled from himself, clawing at his chest and hissing and spitting. He raked his talons through one of the rafter beams, leaving deep scars in the wood. The bells jangled in the corners of his mind and the flute shrieked in his ears.

_He was wiping his mouth of blood as he looked about him. His father had shut out the crowds and blacked out the cameras. He knew what that meant. No airing a death live on international television. His father meant to kill him. The fight had gone on long enough and now he meant to end it. There was a cold, grim expression on his father's face. A trim black moustache, signature black hair, black eyes, and a black gi. He'd been looking up and fearing this man all his life. Now it was time for this to end. He could feel pain in places he didn't even know could hurt. He was pacing the very edge of the arena, buying himself time before the final, fatal round took place. He'd been training all his life for this, and yet despite all the hate and all the rage, there was that fractional spark of fear still remaining. The fear of what it meant if he failed today. All those years struggling would have been for nothing. The promises he'd made of a different future to come. The odd mixture of bitterness and hope that had been in Chaolan's eyes as he'd beaten him in the previous round. And then Heihachi was closing the distance between them, a cruel certainty in his expression that set Kazuya even more on edge. But suddenly his strength wasn't just his own and he could feel a surge of inhuman rage joined to his and he smiled when his father's step faltered. He leapt up into the air and hovered with new wings and laughed as he spread his arms and filled the darkened arena with his manic explosion of freedom. And then he came for Heihachi. Every strike his father landed on him was met by one of his own that was harder, faster, deeper. His father was ducking and weaving, trying to dodge his son's flying attacks, and the beams of light scoring across the stage from his eyes. There was an overwhelming feeling of triumph as he finally saw that look of fear in Heihachi's eyes. He drunk in that sight as he pummelled his father into the ground under the eyes of a thousand blank cameras and blackout walls. His fists didn't stop even as the body beneath him finally stilled._

Kazuya howled in rage, wings threshing the smokey air and turning twisters in their wake. He was in the centre of the dojo, high, looking down through the cacophony of noise and the roar of his own jagged memory. He could hear his own inhuman snarling, and the old creaking wooden dojo was lit unearthly red by his maddened vision.

_He was blinking awake in strong arms. His body was burning from the battering and bruising it had taken. He could feel his teeth biting down into his own lip to keep from crying out at the pain. He could hear his own ragged breathing and the sniffle of his nose as his eyes watered and he choked back a whimper. The strength of the arms carrying him was safe, warm, comforting. His eyelids flickered open. A blood-curdling horror swarmed through him when he realised he was in his father's arms. There wasn't even time to scream as the air was snatched from his lungs. He was falling, twisting in the air, clawing at nothingness as the silhouette of his father became smaller and the ravine rising up about him grew darker. Then came the shattering impact of bone on stone. He was lying face down and he knew this was the end. He knew he had lived his whole life and that it was ending here, at five-years-old. With terrible, terrible pain and a mind pushed to its limits by betrayal and hate and despair and grief and a brokenness that went all the way through him – body and mind and soul. And then came the whispers, as he lay, his fingers twitching as he bled out on the hard earth. At first he couldn't hear them for his own stuttering, sobbing breathing and the incomprehensible agony. He couldn't make sense of anything that was being said. But the voice was soothing and soft, and it reminded him that there was more than just pain in the world. There was fear. And there was hate. And he remembered being rolled over onto his back and looking back up at the impossibly high cliff with its thin line of sunlight peaking over the black precipice of the rock face._

**And I said to you: Mishima Kazuya, I can give you life, I can give you strength, and most importantly, I can give you revenge. And we climbed that ravine together. Everything we've taken since then has been ours by right, paid for in blood. **

Kazuya sunk to the dojo floor and curled his wings about him. He raked his hands through his hair. He pulled his palms down until they hid his face. He bent his back and bowed his head to his knees. And he curled there on the floor with the weight of the things he'd chosen and half chosen and tacitly chosen and secretly desired and willed into being crashing through his thoughts.

He felt his leathery wings being parted but did not look up. He heard the sound of someone kneeling on the tatami before him but he did not look up. He felt a kiss on his forehead.

Something fluttered inside him. Something lighter. Something with wings of its own and a strength of his own. The darkness about him retreated, warring and bellowing as it did.

He looked up when it was quieter inside him. The smoke was receding. The music had ceased. His wings had vanished. Jun was before him. Behind her, her dojo was scored with burns and claw marks and the furls of retreating incense were collecting in the rafters.

He reached out to touch her face, afraid of what he might have done. She was real under his fingers, and somehow still untouched by all his hate and darkness. He could feel himself shaken and uncertain of anything. She put both hands on his cheeks and kissed him.

* * *

The world on the other side was clearer. Like a window wiped free of fog.

The walls of the dojo had been rolled open and a cool wind was drifting in, chasing away the last of the incense. Villagers in ornate gowns were collecting their instruments and picking up the hems of their best kimonos as they started to disperse.

Somehow beyond the walls, everything had kept going. The sun was still in the sky. The eddying remains of sullen storm clouds were still scooting high above. The smell of sea salt and the tails of wind swept rains skittered along the streets. The suck and pull of curbside mud bubbled as someone wheeled a bicycle through it. There was a distant rustle of bending trees.

A mantle had fallen over his world. A stillness was lowering into the corners of everything about him. A constant anger inside him had quieted for the first time in his living memory. A noise he had not noticed had been deafening him had finally dropped out of hearing. The air felt easier to breathe.

Jun stroked his face. Her hands were cool and he realised his skin felt like it was burning up.

"There is still a fight." She touched his chest where his heart was. "But the rest is up to you now. It can be subdued. When it has become nothing to you, it will no longer have a hold over your soul. Learn not to have need of its power. Learn not to call on it. Learn a more compassionate way of living." He looked at her uncertainly. "I will be right here with you, helping you."

He looked at his hands. She took them in her own and squeezed them.

He found himself unsure what to say and how to speak, and who he was and who he ought to become, and what of what he'd seen was his burden to bear. Because really, deep down, he'd known all that. He'd known it all, he'd seen it all, he'd done it all. And the curtains of darkness that he pulled over those memories didn't make it any less real that he'd experienced them. The back seat he'd taken during those moments didn't make the rage less real, didn't make the desires less real, didn't make his participation less real. He'd held back when he really wanted to – for Chaolan and for Jun. So every moment he hadn't held back, that was also on him.

"Let it go. Let it go for now," Jun said to him. "Be here. Be present. Be with me, Kazuya." She held his hands and raised him to his feet. "Walk with me."

The afternoon was shifting into evening and the last of the storm clouds were sliding away to reveal a sky touched with deeper colours of the dying sun. She lead him down the street. Yesterday's mud clung to his red trainers. They climbed together over the rocky breakwater and down onto the beach. The sea was a shimmering beaten gold and the waves rolled in like mirrors up the white sand.

"Spar with me," she said, tightening her navy gi with her black belt. He shook his head. "You are a body too and not just a mess of thoughts somewhere in your head. Fight, and you will feel less like many fractured things, and more like one person. She reached to her belt and untied something. She held out his sparring mitts. He took the gloves uneasily. He'd worn them as he punched his brother to the ring floor of the Iron Fist Tournament and told him to stay down, and that he'd take this from here, and that he'd do this for the both of them. He'd worn them as he killed Heihachi.

He looked up. Jun was moving in a kata about the beach. She'd kicked off her shoes and her bare feet were pushing through the firm sand. Kazuya reached down and undid his own laces. He stood barefoot on the sand and felt it cool between his toes. He put on his sparring gloves and tightened them about his wrists. Seabirds were wheeling about his head, dipping and diving in and out the flashing waves. Jun's arms flowed with the lapping tide, back and forth.

He raised his gloves and she moved until she was back in front of him. She stood straight and they bowed to one another as a red sun sat on the white sea.

He'd never felt less like he wanted to fight in his life. All through the years of his youth that he could remember: to fight was to breathe enmity. He'd fought out of hate and fought out of fear and when his father had brought Chaolan into his home, he'd fought out of anger and fought out of jealousy. He still recalled the haunted look on his brother's face, hollow bony cheeks and frightened eyes looking back at him from under a shock of silver hair. Chaolan had been fighting for a home, for acceptance, out of fear of being sent back to life of hunger and hardship. Kazuya had never fought for anything like that. He'd only ever raised his fists with the full force of his convictions behind them. He raised them to strike people down.

He didn't want to strike Kazama Jun down.

She tapped her grappling gloves to his.

"Let that go. It's not all about hurting people. To be strong is to stand between someone in need and the source of their hurt. In the Kazama Ryu dojo, the first thing we teach our students is that they learn to fight in order to have the courage to stand up and do the right thing. The knowledge that they can protect themselves gives them the confidence to do what they must in life. Even if it does not involve raising their fists. It is an art intended to protect life, first and foremost, not to take it."

"That's not the Mishima way," Kazuya muttered. His voice was quiet and strange and didn't sound like his own.

She gave a huff of a smile,

"Of course it is. It is the way of all karate." He looked away. She interlocked her fingertips with his through the mitts. "And it's your way, Kazuya. Do you remember? When Chaolan had been poisoned, and you were angry at his lovers, past and present. You asked where love was when your father was beating him. You said there'd been no love then, only-"

"My back. My bones. My blood."

"_Your_ love, Kazuya. That's what was there for your brother. You can pretend all these things are foreign to you, but all your life you've lived these truths."

"I couldn't stop father anyway. When I intervened, he'd just beat both of us. I'd get my share when I backtalked him, then another lot if I stood between him and Chaolan. It made me hate Chaolan. And resent him."

"Then why not stop? You didn't have to keep standing between them."

Kazuya glared down at his red gloves.

"Any excuse to let my father know what I thought of him. I'd never back down in front of him." Jun raised an eyebrow, she tilted her face so that she caught his eye. He looked away again. "And Chaolan looked so small when he first arrived. I was furious that my father had brought along someone else to torment. He tormented a whole house of Mishimas and we were dying one by one. Then he goes and brings in an outsider. As if destroying his own blood relations wasn't enough. Chaolan was always so desperate for his affection. Desperate to please him. Desperate not to be sent back to the streets. He never got the chance to be angry like I did, because he was so worried of failing and the consequences. Someone had to get angry on his behalf."

Jun smiled. She touched her fingertips to his. Her voice was gentle,

"Now we're ready to fight."

Kazuya didn't feel ready for anything. He felt adrift and unsure of himself. When a punch came for his head however, his thoughts moved into a fuller unity with his body, and he leaned out the way, pulling up an arm to block. He threw a return punch. Jun's feet shifted in a spray of sand, passing by his fist and tugging it the same way he's punched, using his momentum against him. He felt his balance go, and rather than stumbling, dived into a roll. A cloud of sand was kicked up into the air and by the time he'd stood straight again, fine sediment was scattered in his hair. Jun smiled.

Kazuya frowned and shook his hair free of sand. He raised his fists again. He came in with a front kick – she covered high and low with her palms, pushing the kick away. He stamped a foot down and brought his next leg in for a roundhouse kick. In one seamless movement Jun stepped back, and with one arm guided the kick passed her. He punched again whilst she had her hands occupied, but her arms made a small circle, rising to guide his wrist straight passed her cheek. She stepped to his right and came in with a mid elbow to his ribs. He grunted but took the elbow. He'd conditioned himself enough sparring with Bruce Irvin that a few stray elbows weren't anything that would break his guard. He brought his elbow down on her head, but she'd already gone, slipping back away. He swept her as she retreated, but she rolled back away from him, getting up easily after the fall. She shook her hair and it glistened with splashes of sunlight.

He chased down the space she'd put between them, coming in with a compact fighting style and snapping back all his punches so that she couldn't grab him. She blocked his first punch and moved with the second, taking most of the energy out of it. He sensed her looking for a wrist to throw, and got closer still, tightening his guard until he was throwing elbows. She went to duck out of his range and he brought up a knee, catching her in the stomach. He heard her breath expel. He immediately brought a hammerfist down toward her head. Before it made contact she was gone – dropping to the floor, grabbing the descending hammerfist and throwing him straight over her head. They both wound up on their backs on the sand. Kazuya leapt back up.

Jun was on her feet too. His eyebrows moved as he looked at her, contemplating her oddly elusive style. He came in with a straight punch but she was ready. She stepped in, grabbed his wrist switched stance and with a small circular motion of her hands threw him high over his own fist. He recognised the throw and breakfalled out, standing in one fluid motion at the end of it. They moved back and forth across the beach. Kazuya found himself entering a quieter level of thought – learning from the way Jun moved, watching which way she'd respond to his punches and shifted with his bodyweight like the steps of a dance. Instead of searching for weaknesses, he found himself learning the way that she moved – giving her punches to see where she'd take them, then snatching his own counters as she started her return technique.

He came in with a punch combination. She caught his right wrist and turned it into a swan-neck lock. He let his arm go limp then dived his hand suddenly low, then circled it back up, pushing into her space. He placed his left foot behind her ankle and as she was thrown off balance she stumbled over his leg. A flash of satisfaction crossed his face as she started to fall. Her eyes widened and she grabbed him as she fell. Her back hit wet sand and he came down with her. Before he'd even landed she'd flipped them and sat on his chest, pinning his hands. A wash of cold seawater came up and smothered his face. The wavelet rolled back again, and he was left sputtering and splurting sea foam. A rubbery frond of seaweed had tangled in his hair.

Jun let go of his wrists and laughed and laughed. Kazuya grabbed her gi, pulled her in close and flipped her over. She was in full guard though and locked her legs behind his back. She narrowed her eyes at him and he saw them glimmer playfully. Just as the next wave rolled in, she splashed it up in his face. He screwed up his eyes and spat out seawater.

"Concede defeat, Mr Mishima. You've been defeated by the sea."

"You're a dirty cheat, Officer Kazama."

She laughed. Kazuya thought it might be the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

"Kazuya, your hair has gone all floppy in the water!"

"And who's fault is that?" He reached up to feel his hair though, and scowled when he found it hanging wet at his shoulders.

"You look almost handsome with your hair long like that." Her eyes sparkled at she looked up at him from where she lay in the wet sand.

"_Almost_ handsome? I might have believed someone saying that three months ago, but in the interim, this stunning woman I know hasn't been able to stop ogling me, and I'm afraid it's stoked my ego to surprising new heights."

"Who is she? She doesn't have any taste at all."

Kazuya leaned forward. Her deep brown eyes were brimming with affection just for him. He leaned closer. Her lips parted and her breath came a little shorter.

"She doesn't have any taste because her mouth is full of seawater." A wave rolled in and soaked Jun. She coughed and choked. Kazuya sat back and laughed. She spat water at him. He started to get up, but she locked her legs tighter about his back. He put a hand under head and stood. She came with him, locked about his wait. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply.

"Mm. You taste of salt."

"I think I swallowed some that last wave. You still have seaweed in your hair."

"I'll start a new fashion trend in Tokyo."

"With seaweed."

"Yup."

He began to walk across the beach with her in his arms. The sun was sliding crimson into the white gold ocean and the sky was aflame with stripes of molten orange and brilliant violent.

"Okay, put me down, I can't have my students seeing me like this."

"Not a chance."

"Kazuya!"

"Your choice to practice limpet ryu style. Now you have to stay there. Hope your little sisters have gone to bed."

"Kazuya, don't you dare!"

He walked them back through the sleepy village as their laughter entwined and spilled light on the evening air.

He made a show of feigning stealth as he carried her back into her house. She had to clap a hand to her own mouth to keep from giggling. He'd left his trainers on the beach so walked straight onto the tatami, leaving sandy foot prints behind him.

"Kazuya!" Jun whispered, pointing at the sand trail. He gave her a mischievous grin and carried her through, setting her on the tiled floor of the shower room. Jun was still biting her lip to keep her laughter muffled. She slid the door shut behind them and lit a single lantern. She slipped out of her wet gi and turned on the shower. Her naked body shimmered in the fine amber spray of water caught in lamplight. Kazuya stared at her. Then he shed his own gi bottoms and joined her under the hot running water. He pressed his body up against hers.

"Let me get rid of the sand first!" She whispered.

He untangled the seaweed from his hair and dumped it on her head. She punched him lightly in the stomach. He pulled her towards him and ran his hands over her body. She shuddered and pushed up against him. Her skin was smooth under his palms. She turned to face him and he pushed her back against the wall. The air was hot and steaming around them. Their breaths were close. She wound her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his loose, free hair. He slid his hands down her thighs, then lifted her up, bracing her against the slick dark tiles that glisten golden wet in the shadowy lantern light as he pushed inside her. Their breaths merged to the rhythm of the drumming water, sharp on their shoulders. He felt the air hot and gasping where her lips were near his neck. She was strong and eager in his arms, but he felt her relax, surrendering all control to him. For a moment that worried him, until he thought back to the way they'd fought, and the way that their movements were a constant giving and receiving. He shed some of his pride, and let himself unwind the way that she did, following her lead into this new territory.

He kissed her with renewed passion, and allowed himself to feel a confidence and a strength in her embrace. He lifted her higher and increased his pace, rocking into her until she tilted her head back against the dark stone. He watched fascinated at the drops of flashing water rolling down her throat. He put out a tongue and dragged it against her skin. She clung to him in ecstasy as her breath stuttered and her eyes closed and his name bled as a yearned whisper from her mouth. She buried her fingers in his hair and he felt her nails scrape at his scalp. He kissed her shoulders, then up her neck, and along her jaw. He pushed her harder against the wall and steadied her with one hand, freeing his other to roam over her body. He felt the way some of her skin came out in goosebumps while other places shuddered with excitement. He bowed his head and twirled a tongue over each of her nipples. The thunder of water all around him melded with the soft noises of Jun's pleasure as a music in his ears.

She caught his head and lifted it up until his face was close to hers. In the flickering light he could just make out her eyes.

"Remember," she said, her voice was all raw and quiet, "_t__his_ is Mishima Kazuya."

* * *

**Author Note: **I wanted to share the Miko Kagura dance I used for inspiration for this chapter, but the video isn't around any more. I'll put some examples of the music up on twitter so you can at least hear it.

Most of the things Jun says about karate in this chapter were told to me by one of my sensei's and his words always meant a lot to me, so it was nice to be able to share them here.

Also, my partner and I choreographed this fight scene together, because he does aikido, and my karate style is similar enough to Kaz's that this worked out quite well between us.

3 more chapters left of this story, thanks for your continued comments and reading!


	18. Sinking Into Shadow

Lee Chaolan swept into the police station in a white pinstripe suit over a pink silk shirt. He tossed his head to flick hair out of his face. He surveyed the room through mirror black lenses.

"Mr Lee," an officer leaned over the reception desk. "We've been expecting you. The prisoner is in interrogation room two, if you'd like to step this way."

Chaolan made no immediate move to follow. Instead he pulled a cigarette pack out of his top pocket and selected one.

"There's no smoking in the precinct, Mr Lee," the officer informed him.

Chaolan took out a lighter and lit the cigarette. He took a long draw on it, then blew out the smoke in the officer's face. The officer waved away the smoke in distaste.

"Lead the way," Chaolan said.

The officer hesitated for a moment, then did as they were bidden. Chaolan was lead through desks and past the gazes he drew until they stopped before a door. An armed guard waited beside it. On seeing Chaolan, the door was unlocked. He was shown into a windowless room. A single table was before him. A chair stood before it. Opposite was another, occupied by Lei Wulong. He was chained with handcuffs to the table. He sported a split lip with dried blood cracked onto it, and had the shadow of a black eye going down, a bruise on his chin, and a cut near an eyebrow.

Chaolan paused, smoking as the door shut behind him. Wulong's face was stubborn and dark and sullen. He gradually lifted his gaze, and a flash of surprise crossed his features. A dim light of hope entered his eyes.

"Lee Chaolan," he murmured, more to himself than by way of greeting. He sat straighter, rattling the chains as he did so.

Chaolan moved to the spare chair, dragged it out, sat on it, leaned back, then put his legs up on the table and crossed them. He blew out another plume of smoke.

"Mr Lee," Wulong started, "I'm glad you're here. They haven't charged me with anything and aren't letting me have a lawyer, and I'm not sure Interpol have even been informed about my situation."

Chaolan pulled a slim A4 folder out of his inside jacket pocket and set it on the desk. He lazily unwound a tie on it, then flicked the folder open. He breathed out another furl of smoke.

"You're being charged with breaking and entering, trespass, attempted murder, and kidnapping."

Wulong paused,

"I never attempted to commit murder."

"I have an hour's worth of CCTV footage of you creeping around a Mishima Industries lab with a loaded gun in your hand, and five minutes' worth where that gun is pointed at Officer Kazama's head."

"That was for protection. The attempted murder charge won't stick, it-"

"Charges Mr Mishima makes always stick." Wulong went silent. Chaolan took his feet off the desk and pulled his chair closer to the desk. He flicked through the file. "Now, we can make this all go away with just a couple of pen strokes. I have here a-"

"I'm not signing a non-disclosure agreement."

Chaolan's lip curled slightly. He continued on as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"I have here a non-disclosure agreement. Keep what you saw to yourself, and your gross acts of misconduct will be considered as nothing. Mr Mishima is happy to let you walk free, so long as you sign this paperwork swearing never to breathe a word about what you saw in those labs to a soul." Chaolan ploughed on through the outrage starting to bloom on Wulong's face. "I know you're a proud man and you believe yourself to be fighting some just fight against the Zaibatsu, but think realistically. Nothing you saw is admissible in court anyway. Any information you think you gained was obtained illegally. This is a generous offer."

"Any information I _think_ I gained?" Wulong's face was thunderstruck. "I know what I saw, Mr Lee. I know Mr Mishima kidnapped Dr Bosconovitch. I know he's trading illegally in animals and various stolen artefacts of cultural significance from around the world. I know he's testing on animals illegally. I know he killed an employee last month, and I know he's responsible for more. And I'm fairly certain he killed your father." Wulong sat forward, eyes sharp. "And I know that your heart is not in the work he makes you do. I know you entered that tournament hoping to win the Mishima Zaibatsu for yourself, and I know you hate that secretary job he makes you do." Chaolan sat mildly through all this, fingers interlocked, thumbs tapping one another idly. "I know that you're a better man than your brother, and that no one's given you the opportunity to prove that yet." Wulong shifted in his handcuffs, twisting in the chafing metal. "Help me. Help me expose the Zaibatsu for what it really is. In exchange for your testimony, you'll be granted immunity." Wulong fixed him with bright, hopeful eyes.

Chaolan's lip twitched. He hated that genuine sincerity in Wulong's gaze. It reminded him of the way Jae-suk would look at him whenever he whispered affections in his ear, pulling his heart toward impossibilities that could not be. He tapped cigarette ash onto the table.

"You have your story wrong. Kazuya didn't kidnap Bosconovitch. I did."

Wulong's expression flickered, but it cleared up quickly.

"Under his orders. I can still grant you immunity. Or at least a reduced sentence."

"Mr Lei," Chaolan said slowly. Wulong fixed him with that desperate, urgent look. "You paint me like some victim of the Mishima family, waiting to jump on the opportunity to sell the Mishimas out to the police in exchange for some small trifle. But let me let you in on a secret." Chaolan leaned forward. He blew smoke into Wulong's face. "Kazuya is the victim of the Mishima family, not me. He's the one who could never escape. Me? Every day I was threatened with being ejected from the family. 'Punch harder or I'll return those adoption papers, Chaolan'. 'Sort your footwork out or you'll be back on the streets of Shanghai, Chaolan'. I _fought_ tooth and nail for my place in this family. And you think I'd just toss that away? Kazuya made me a secretary, and yes, I fucking hate that. But he can give me more with a lift of his little finger than you can with all the International Police on your side. Expose the Zaibatsu? Here's what the Zaibatsu looks like exposed: sign these papers, or I will bury you in the worst prison I can, and make sure every inmate in there knows you're a cop." Wulong stared at him. Chaolan fixed him with hard eyes. "Now, _sign _it." He put his cigarette out on the back of Wulong's hand. Wulong let out a surprised gasp. He quickly smothered the sound and writhed under the burning touch, breath shuddering through his teeth as he hissed in pain. Chaolan twisted the cigarette end against his skin harder, then flicked the stub away. A dark red circular patch of burned flesh stood out sharp on Wulong's hand.

The hope finally died in Wulong's eyes and something like fear started to edge into its place. He stayed silent. Chaolan raised one hand in the air. Wulong flinched away from him, chains rattling as he pulled back as far as he could. Chaolan gave him a cold smile, and only clicked a few times impatiently. The guard outside the door put his head in.

"Mr Lee? You called?"

"Turn the cameras off in here."

A pause.

"As you wish, Mr Lee."

The door closed again.

Chaolan watched as Wulong's eyes widened. The red dot on a CCTV camera above them dimmed and winked out.

"Think-… Think about what I said, Mr Lee. You don't have to be the same as them. You could do the right thing." Wulong's voice had lost some of its confidence and there was a slight waver in it.

"Or, you could sign this non-disclosure agreement, which I have asked you to do nicely a number of times now, Mr Lei."

"Working for your brother is making you a worse person! I know you're not the same as him! Trust me, someone as reckless and sadistic as him is going to come crashing down. Don't let him drag you down with him!"

Chaolan stood abruptly. Wulong flinched again.

"What the fuck do you know about me and my brother? Nothing. You're here bad mouthing Kazuya, trying to make me out as innocent in all this. _Kazuya's_ the one that wants you let free. You can thank your old buddy Kazama Jun for that. But guess what, Mr Lei. Kazuya's not here. And _I'm_ not in love with Kazama Jun. I don't give a fuck about you." He came round the other side of the desk. Wulong shuffled his chair away from him, real fear in his face now. Chaolan kicked the chair out from under him. Wulong half fell to the ground, but his handcuffs prevented him from hitting the floor. He struggled up with difficulty, the metal about his wrists cutting into his skin. He backed up against the wall as best he could, with the chain linking his handcuffs to the desk pulled taught. Chaolan moved lightening fast, and suddenly his foot was pressed against Wulong's throat, pinning him to the cell wall.

Wulong choked around the shoe on his neck.

"Got something to say?" Chaolan asked. He lifted his toe a little.

"Mr Lee, if y-" The shoe returned with more force than before and Wulong's answer was choked off.

"What I want to hear is 'Yes, Mr Lee, I'll sign the non-disclosure agreement that Mr Mishima kindly offered me'."

"_F-fuck off!_" Wulong rasped.

"Wrong answer." He increased the pressure. Wulong gasped and writhed, rattling his chained hands, feet scrabbling for purchase as his throat was slowly crushed. His eyes widened with a realisation that Chaolan recognised all too often from his own revelations whilst suffering a similar fate under his brother's hand. He lifted the pressure a little.

"Y-yes," Wulong managed to get out.

"Yes what."

"I'll s-sign."

"Good man." Chaolan pulled his leg back into chamber, holding it hovering in the air to see if he needed to strike again. The fight had gone out of Wulong's eyes though, and was replaced only with bitter wariness. Chaolan set his foot down. "There'll be another day for your justice crusade. Try again with legal means this time." Chaolan was cheery again. He clicked brusquely. The door cracked open. If the guard was concerned by a dishevelled Lei Wulong shrunk into the wall with eyes downcast he did not say so. "Camera rolling again, please. And brighten the lights in here – it's so dingy. Get Wulong here a coffee, he's going to be a free man soon." The guard nodded and departed.

Chaolan pulled out a pen and turned the papers towards Wulong. Wulong reached for his chair to sit on, but it had been kicked too far out of reach. He had to kneel next to the table to relieve the taut bite of the hand cuffs and push them further up his wrists. He reached a hand out unsteadily for the pen. He winced in pain as a handcuff scraped over the cigarette burn on the back of his hand. Chaolan watched him emotionlessly. Wulong signed the agreement. Chaolan took back his pen.

"That wasn't so hard, was it," he said softly. "Now, I hope I don't have to explain to you how serious breaking this agreement will be."

Wulong shook his head, finally quiet and out of words. He regarded Chaolan with a new, silent contempt. There was fear mixed in with his anger.

"Good." Chaolan brushed his cheek with a finger. Wulong jerked away from him. Chaolan laughed. "Someone will be here shortly to process the termination of your arrest. Here's some pocket money for playing so nicely. Go treat yourself to some real food, instead of that greasy cafe I know you favour." Chaolan set his file back in his inside pocket and placed a small roll of cash wrapped in an elastic band on the table. Wulong spat at it. Chaolan laughed again and left.

He informed the officers of the procedures required of them before stepping out into the wan sunshine. The air smelled like the end of summer. The promise of autumn hung on the air, chill, damp, and a little melancholy. A limousine was waiting for him. He stepped in, opened the little partition window to chat amiably with the driver and tell him where to next. When he was done, he shut the window.

It was dark inside the limousine. The one-way blackened glass and the sound-proofed interior gave him some privacy. He leaned over his knees and buried his head in his hands.

* * *

Chaolan sat in Kazuya's high back chair. A sparkly blue shirt was open onto his bare chest and his leather trousers were tight enough that they'd taken a good ten minutes to squeeze into this morning. There were upsides to Kazuya not breathing down his neck everyday, and priority number one was making the most of the opportunity to dress outrageously. He threw a leg over the arm rest of the chair, sighing as he propped up his chin and surveyed the organised madness around him. He was overseeing the refurbishment of Kazuya's wrecked apartment, something he didn't dare let anyone else do, since Kazuya was rather particular about what he considered valuable.

Someone brought up a white jade vase still in perfect condition and held it up to him.

"Get rid of it. A gift from a business competitor last year. He hates it."

Someone else brought out a battered pair of trainers, wincing and holding them at a distance.

"Those are worth more than your life," Chaolan informed them. "Package them carefully and set them to one side."

He watched as workmen sized up the windows for new panes of glass and took measurements around shredded furniture being lifted out the apartment. There was a crunch from over on his right as a carpet filled with glass and sporadically burned was pulled up from the floor and rolled up.

Another one of his staff approached him – they all liked him better than Kazuya, and whilst they always showed him respect, they seemed to feel comfortable asking him questions and or voicing disagreement.

"Mr Lee. A few of Mr Mishima's bottles were in good condition, we've packaged them and commissioned the bespoke carpenter you picked out to make a new drinks cabinet. What do you want done with the half finished bottles?"

Chaolan raised an eyebrow when he saw the thirty-year-old Highland Park in the man's hand.

"Is there any crystal wear left?"

"No complete sets, Mr Lee."

"Fetch me a tumbler."

Chaolan sat drinking his brother's whiskey as the sunlight poured through the long windows and the apartment transformed around him. His ears picked up the sound of shoes clacking on floorboards. His expression soured. Black high heels and lace fishnet tights came into view. He swivelled his gaze up, letting it drag just a little slowly as he took in the corset tight high dress clinging to curved hips, a bodice so open he lost sight of the dress for all the cleavage, a leopard fur jacket, and finally a petite face, red lips, a brown bob haircut, and quick blue eyes.

"Ms Williams," he said with reservation that betrayed nothing of the way this woman made his pulse pick up.

"Mr Lee," she returned. When Anna Williams walked she swung her hips like she was on a catwalk. She was capable, intelligent, and a top-rate martial artist: all things that commended her to Kazuya when he hired her. Those weren't the qualities about her that caught Chaolan's eye though. Anna was quick-witted, charming, shared affinities of his for strong coffee and good wine. She had that right dose of sarcasm that cut through a couple of his layers and won sly smiles from him that were truer than most he broadcasted to the world. And it she was hot, of course – that was of crowning importance. She dressed with class and confidence and she always had that assertive look in her eye that made Chaolan wonder what she'd do to him if given free rein in a bedroom.

Chaolan subconsciously chewed at his lower lip. Anna gave a tinkling laugh. He snapped his eyes back to her face from where they'd wandered again. "There's a call for you," she said sweetly, though her eyes were doing that dominant thing again that set his imagination on ice and pushed him away from the safety of steady land.

He unslung his leg and sat straight, fingers tightening on the crystal glass.

"Kazuya?"

"No."

Chaolan breathed a sigh of relief. He cocked his head.

"Jae-suk?"

"Are we going to go through all your acquaintances or can I just tell you?" She raised her eyebrows in amusement. He gestured dully for her to continue. If it wasn't Kazuya or Jae-suk, he wasn't interested. "Someone called Wang Jinrei. Apparently an old family friend? He didn't want to stay on the line. He asked you to meet him at the earliest possible time at the Mishima Estate."

Chaolan frowned. He swilled his whiskey and sipped. The strong peaty flavour hit the back of his throat and burned pleasantly.

"You know him?" she asked.

"Yep." Chaolan stood. He downed the rest of the glass. "Don't let anyone throw anything away without it going through me. Just pile it somewhere and I'll sort through it later."

"You're going now?"

"Earliest possible time is the present."

"Shall I prepare a suit for you, Mr Lee, or are you going like that?" Anna touched a hand to his bare chest. He shivered at the faint pressure of her fingertips. He took a reluctant step back.

"… I'm going like this of course." Their eyes met briefly and Chaolan saw the twinkle in her gaze. He shook his head regally and turned away. He could feel her stare on the back of his neck as he left. He found himself cursing himself for having worn such tight trousers as he took the elevator down to the ground floor.

It felt strange to be driving the winding country roads without Kazuya. Chaolan hadn't been back here without him since before… Before everything. He was trying to recall the last time he'd driven to the estate alone. Probably after the tournament had been announced. He'd flown back from the US with the aim of making his face known around Tokyo again and to focus on his training. His self-discipline had been waning in the States. Parties that continued through to the dawn, alcohol, a few other recreational substances, numerous people sharing his bed and various other hedonistic pleasures – none of those were going to improve his chances of winning the foolish tournament his father had announced. As soon as he heard it though, Chaolan had known he wanted it. In the back of his head, for as long as he had been in the Mishima Family, he knew it would be Kazuya who inherited the world, whilst the most he could hope for were table scraps. But that tournament announcement changed everything. Perhaps Heihachi had really decided that he didn't want Kazuya to inherit and wanted to give Chaolan a chance to take the corporation. Perhaps this was why he'd brought him into the family, perhaps this had been his plan all along. Chaolan knew better now. He'd known then as well, but had somehow deluded himself with that prize dangling before his eyes.

There was no trying to understand Heihachi's motives. He played games within games. And his favourite game had always been taunting his sons and pitching them against each other. Chaolan found himself wondering for the umpteenth time – if he'd refused to participate, if he'd said that tournament was stupid, he'd stuck by Kazuya's side and recognised him as the Zaibatsu heir nomatter what – perhaps things would be different now. Kazuya had had to pummel him to the ground and walk over him to get to where he was today. If Chaolan had always been in his corner, maybe he could have had more now. Maybe Kazuya would have made him Vice-CEO, or at least someone just beneath him with important decisions to make. Ah well, he was making important decisions now. And things weren't so bad.

His mind flicked back to the apartment he'd just left and the faint horror and fear in the eyes of those working silently to fix it. The way they'd looked at the burned walls and raked furniture and shattered glass. He remembered the way Kazuya had sat there in the darkness, like some king lording it over the utter ruin and destruction, like some metaphor for the Zaibatsu itself… or perhaps the world a few years down the line. Chaolan shook his head and concentrated on the road.

Or the way he always came up close in Chaolan's face and said those words Chaolan dreaded to hear: 'make it happen'. With the implication 'by any means necessary'. The way he left blanks that Chaolan had to fill in himself, making him complicit and a partner in all the worst parts of what was done in the Mishima name. Or the way his eyes got when he was angry. And the way the very air became heavy around him until Chaolan felt much, much more frightened than he'd even felt around his adoptive father. And then there was that time in the dojo when-

_This is Lei Wulong. He's just been getting inside my head. Kazuya isn't that bad. He even apologised for Takumi and let me take two weeks off. Fuck. An apology and a two week vacation I was already owed. That was fucking murder. He murdered- But Takumi had it coming. He pushed Kazuya to the edge. Kazuya was only trying to protect me and the Zaibatsu. And besides, he sounded different on the phone. He has Kazama Jun now. She can help him. It's going to get better from here on out. Cops are always twisting the truth and trying to snag at your fears. I told Kazuya as much when Jun and Lei first came to the Zaibatsu. I should take my own advice and calm down. And I should watch the fucking road because I had quite a large glass of Kazuya's whiskey. Okay. Shut up, Chaolan. Just drive. Drive to that fucking nightmare house and all its ghosts. This better be important, Jinrei._

He skidded the car into the drive, kicking up a small storm of pebbles as he did. He got out and slammed the door shut. The Mishima Estate stood as it always had. Autumn had come quicker in the countryside. A chill mist was hanging about the rafters and sunk about the wooden platforms and curling paintwork.

"Master Chaolan." One of the serving staff had appeared. They shut the blank, black hole into the house behind them. "We are most honoured. What can we get for you? Will you take supper? Shall we ready your room?"

"Nothing! Nothing." Chaolan waved at them dismissively as he passed. He drew his glittery jacket about him as he walked towards the gardens, shivering in the turn the air had taken. He regretted not dressing more formally. It felt like Mishima Heihachi might leap out from any corner and chastise him for his fashion choices at any moment. "I'm stopping by to see Jinrei, nothing more."

The rock gardens were silent and hung with that same grey mist and cold shadows. Chaolan chewed his lip and couldn't shake the feeling that he was trespassing. His eyes wandered as he walked, picking out places where memories were stirred. If left alone with his thoughts, he tended to mull over the past and overthink things and spiral into an eternal replaying of could-have-beens and should-have-beens. Just over there was the water fountain with tipping buckets. Behind it was a carefully cultivated juniper bush that he'd had to retrieve Kazuya's trainer from. Kazuya had pulled the shoe off his foot and thrown it at him, but missed. He'd told Chaolan if he didn't fetch it, he'd make him pay in the dojo. Chaolan hadn't been too worried – he won almost half the fights against Kazuya when they fought, but he always lost when Kazuya was angry with him. Properly angry. If Kazuya's rage was directed at Heihachi, or if he was just his usual sullen self, then Chaolan had an even chance of winning. But when his brother was out for revenge on him, it never ended well. He'd grumbled and reluctantly picked up the shoe, sorely tempted to dump the prized possession in the fountain before he handed it back. But the punches he'd get in the dojo would be ten times worse from Kazuya if he did, and on top of that he'd have Heihachi's rage to deal with when he lost. He'd handed the offending shoe that had just been thrown at him back in silence, loathing confined to his eyes. Kazuya had laughed at him and put his shoe back on.

And just over there, a stone's throw from the dojo, where the long shadows turned mauve and sunk into mist. That had been the first place he met Kazuya. Many things from back then were hazy, but he could never forget that moment. There hadn't been time to get him any clothes, so they'd dressed him in an old formal kimono of Kazuya's. It was still oversized and not meant at all for such a thin ragged thing as him. His tangled filthy hair had been washed and combed until it was so beautiful it surprised him when he looked in the mirror. He'd touched it and felt it all silky under his fingers. He remembered so vividly the moment Kazuya had seen him, dressed in his clothes and standing next to his father. He still cringed when he remembered the expression. The sheer hate, the anger, and the emptiness in that stare. Chaolan had been excited to meet this new brother he'd heard so much about. Since the moment Heihachi had pulled him out of a Shanghai back alley, all the conversation had been nothing but Kazuya Kazuya Kazuya. Chaolan had been so eager to get along with his new brother, but he knew the moment he was put before him – just here (Chaolan stopped in the spot) – that all was not well. He was in Kazuya's garden, next to Kazuya's house, in Kazuya clothes, next to Kazuya's father, and the imperious cold black eyes that looked down on him were already aged with years of hatred, even at the tender age of nine. Chaolan had bowed low – lower than he'd even been instructed, and tried to make his mouth form the right foreign words of greeting. He'd anxiously waited for a reply, and only received a cold stare in return. Heihachi had snapped at Kazuya, forcing him to return the pleasantry. The hatred in Kazuya's eyes only deepened as he looked to Heihachi, and his first words to Chaolan were spoken under duress and in the midst of a battlefield. Even though it had been frightening and upsetting, Chaolan had come away with a grim but hopeful realisation: Kazuya hated him, but he hated Heihachi more.

Chaolan sighed. There was damp crawling up his tight leather trousers and there was still a walk to get to the hut in the middle of the estate where Wang Jinrei lived. Just as he was schooling his mind and reining in his thoughts, he saw a dent in the woodwork of the dojo exterior. He paused and laid his hand on it.

It was low, about the height of child of maybe ten or eleven. About the height of Kazuya at maybe ten or eleven.

He hadn't cried out. Kazuya never cried out. He never made a sound whenever Heihachi raised a hand against him. He only spoke out when it was Chaolan's turn. _I don't even remember what __Father__ was beating me for. What had I done? Maybe I did something wrong. More likely I just displeased him. _Chaolan rubbed his chin in recollection. _I remember sobbing like a pathetic thing, telling __Father__ I'd do better. Hah. Like anyone could do better in his eyes. And Kazuya just. He just snapped. He was so angry and shouting and talking so fast, I couldn't even understand what he was saying. My Japanese wasn't so good then, and I was even a little worried that it was me Kazuya might be angry at. Father told him to stand aside. But he planted himself between us. He was always doing that… He made it look like just a fight between him and Father and always sneered at my attempts to thank him. But he only ever got angry like that when he stood between us…_

The splinters from the place Heihachi had thrown Kazuya into the wall had long since been weathered smooth. Only that dent in the woodwork remained. Chaolan frowned, troubled.

A gust of wind shook the dew heavy garden and Chaolan shivered. He drew his jacket over her bare chest and folded his arms. He put his head down and walked.

Lavish gardens with a hundred different species of ornamental tree turned greyish in the miserable weather. Occasional snapping breezes brought lost, intermittent rains. Carefully kept lawns wound on for miles, broken by rock features, a series of artificial lakes, arched bridges, terraces gardens, poised stone devotional statues, and private shrines. Looming as an indistinct shadow ever in the background was Hon-Maru, the enormous pagoda temple set deep in the Mishima estate. Chaolan had never understood his Father's flirtation with spirituality. If Heihachi wanted balance and peace from the world, Chaolan had always been of the mind that he should have started at home. His father would walk alone every other day to the Hon-Maru without fail. Seeing his proud solitary figure striking out through these gardens was always one of the few times Chaolan felt relieved. The closest he got to faith was thanking the powers that be that Heihachi was devout enough to remove himself from the house and visit that temple. Kazuya always took over the house then, ordering people about or brooding undisturbed in his room, but his rule was always preferable to Heihachi's. …_Wasn't it?_

Wang Jinrei's house was at an intersection between a wild flower meadow, an orchard, and an allotment. The allotment was divided into numerous rows with muddy footpaths and wooden boards between. Climbing plants on trellises lined the rows, along with an assortment of vegetables that Chaolan sinkingly realised he couldn't identify. When he'd first arrived on this estate from Shanghai he'd been mortified at his own lack knowledge. He couldn't name most of the food before him in his own language let alone in another. He'd always been quick on the uptake, finding ways around his own ignorance, dodging the demeaning contempt in Kazuya's eyes, and finding ways to deflect any specific requests made of him by others. ("Chaolan, finish your sashimi."/ "Yes, Father." And eating everything in front of him as quickly as possible. "How did you find the Nanbanzuke?"/ "Everything in the meal was delicious. Thank you very much for such an excellent meal.") At the first opportunity though, he'd set about educating himself – pouring through books or sneaking off to question the domestic servants. He knew the name of almost every delicacy one could sample now. But he still didn't know what most of it looked like before it got to his plate. He couldn't tell one plant from the next, or tell you if what he was eating came of a bush or a tree or underground. Just looking at Jinrei's simple garden plot caused those old inadequacies and fears to stir in him with hated remembrance.

"Chaolan!" Wang Jinrei leaned out from his hut with a bamboo conical hat clasped to his head. "Come in! Come in!" He waved a hand emphatically. Chaolan stepped distastefully through the mud, still clutching his arms about him. He tugged off his muddy boots and stepped inside the house.

It was small, and looked like it had been lavishly decorated once. The interior décor was fine-wrought with steamed wood and careful carving. The tatami was worn, however, and the walls were dark with smoke and hadn't been cleaned in years. A modern stove was in the corner along with a little fitted kitchen, but Chaolan could see tracks of dust lying on it. Instead, an open fire was blazing in the firepit in the centre of the room. Chaolan knelt before the fire and blew on his fingers.

"You silly boy, what did you come out here in just that for." Jinrei threw a blanket over Chaolan's shoulders.

"It was warm last week!" Chaolan offered in his defence.

"You really do choose the most ridiculous things to wear, Chaolan."

"At least I'm living in the twentieth century. What's with all this?" He gestured to the firepit, and then to a number of gas lamps hanging from the ceiling.

"Hmm. Electricity stopped running to here a long time ago." The old man didn't seem too bothered. He smoothed down a fading silk Chinese tunic and hung his bamboo hat up by the door, replacing it with a square cloth cap, rich but with threadbare gold embroidery. He set a blackened kettle over the fire.

"It did?! Don't you have any heating in the winter? Why didn't you say something?"

"Hmm hmm, I don't mind. This little fire serves me well. And besides, it's always worked best for me not to draw too much attention to myself. I have always been under the impression that your father only tolerated me because I wasn't any trouble. And, well, hmm, your brother gave me the same impression. Sometimes I think maybe I'm only still here because dear Kazuya has forgotten about me."

"He knows you're here," Chaolan shook his wet hair, "though he still doesn't have much polite to say about the matter."

"Hmm, did he say he was waiting for me to die?" Chaolan blushed. Jinrei laughed, "hahah, don't worry about it, Heihachi said the same. But here I am and my peas are still growing strong out there in the field."

Chaolan frowned, wondering which the peas were. He'd go home and immediately rectify this missing knowledge.

"What am I here for, Mr Wang? I have a lot of work. I'm running the Zaibatsu at the moment, if you hadn't heard."

"Hmm, a real big shot, hey? Finally made it to the top, Chaolan?"

Chaolan slumped forward and flopped his chin on his folded fingers.

"No…" he said sullenly, "Kazuya just let me take the reins for a bit whilst he's away."

"Still doing all his dirty work?" Jinrei said nonchalantly as he sifted tea leaves into the hot water.

Chaolan scowled at him.

"I'm doing _important_ work. Which is a significant improvement from what he's had me do in the past."

Chaolan hated the way he reverted to sounding like a sulky child around Wang Jinrei. The old man had been one of the few people in his childhood who Chaolan had felt like he could come to and confide in. Jinrei had always spoken softly to him and in his native tongue. He'd helped Chaolan educate himself, correcting his Japanese and filling him in on traditions that were expected but went unexplained. Chaolan had still always been careful though, unsure of what was reported back to Heihachi, since Jinrei seemed to be on speaking terms with him. He could at least unwind a little around Jinrei though. He'd mostly moan about some injustice Kazuya had done to him, or mutter about something he still hadn't got perfect according to Heihachi. Later he'd bring his interests to Jinrei too, talking animatedly about classes in school he enjoyed (sciences and computer technologies), or people he'd met, or girls that he fancied (he never talked about the boys, for fear Heihachi would find out). Jinrei never really had much to add to Chaolan's chattering, but Chaolan wasn't after much. Someone who listened and didn't hit him was the closest he got to a friendly ear in the Mishima household.

"If you let him dictate your future, things will only get worse."

Chaolan sat back, giving Jinrei a look of incredulity.

"No offence, Mr Wang, but since when have you-…" Actually, there wasn't a way of wording that without being offensive, Chaolan realised, a little too late.

"Since when have I cared about the morality of the actions done in the Zaibatsu's name?" Jinrei asked, eyes still canny despite his advancing years. "Since always, Chaolan. But it takes a Mishima to stand up and solve this problem – to lead the Zaibatsu out of darkness and back towards its honourable origins. You aren't a child any more. Things are different now. There is an ear who will listen when I speak up."

"So the reason you didn't bother to try and stop Father is because he wouldn't listen?"

"You're angry with me, Chaolan, as I know Kazuya is too. But I did try to stop your father a long time ago. Jinpachi and I both did. And as a consequence, Jinpachi vanished. It was more important to stay and be present in Kazuya's life than to vanish like his grandfather did."

"Yeah, very important. You really did him a whole bunch of favours by sticking around."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, Chaolan. It's true I wasn't much help to Kazuya, but I like to think perhaps my presence here did some good at least to one Mishima."

Chaolan pulled the blanket about his shoulders and leaned back, warming his toes by the fire.

"I'm not a Mishima," he said bitterly.

"Of course you are," Jinrei replied immediately. "What's in a name? What's in some blood? Nothing. Mishima Jinpachi's spirit is embodied more in you than it ever was in Kazuya or Heihachi. To be a Mishima is to have a good heart, honourable principles, to live an upright life."

Chaolan laughed unhappily and drove his hand back through his hair.

"That's not me at all."

"But it is, my boy. You're losing your way under Kazuya, but it doesn't have to go on like this."

Chaolan's gaze flickered. He looked at the old man guardedly, sipping from a small cup of tea.

"What do you mean?"

"You said you're in charge for now. Well, what if it wasn't just for now. Lock him out of the accounts. Write him out of the paperwork. Denounce him for corruption and sweep aside every black mark he's put to the Zaibatsu name."

Chaolan spat out his tea into the fire. It sputtered and crackled.

"Are you _insane_?! He'd kill me!"

"Ach ach, stop that nonsense, Chaolan. I've seen you both grow up together. Kazuya is tough, but he's not unbeatable. If anyone can do it, you can."

"He destroyed me in that tournament! _And_ when we last sparred!" Chaolan didn't want to think too hard about that. "What's wrong with you, are you mad?! He won that tournament fair and square! Everything's in his name! I don't even know if he's got a will, and if so, if I'm on it! I have no claim to anything and-"

"You're panicking. Calm down. I'm not suggesting you do this thoughtlessly. Train with me. Hone your martial skills here, and put that clever brain of yours to work to cut him out of the Zaibatsu."

"Oh and I suppose I'll just magically improve under your tutelage in time to stop him coming for my blood?!"

"Don't worry about Kazuya for now, he'll have other things on his mind. I'm talking about _you,_ Chaolan. Think about how much good you could do. Take back the Zaibatsu and restore its honour the way Mishima Jinpachi would have wanted. Think about the future of the company and how you could improve it. Dare to dream a little."

"Mr Wang, I dream in black and white. I dream of realities. And I dream of survival. You of all people should know what that-…" Chaolan cut himself off and his eyes suddenly narrowed as he thought back on Jinrei's words. "What did you mean 'Kazuya will have other things on his mind'?"

"Nevermind that, I'm trying to help you see the bigger picture here, Chaolan. Do you want to be in your brother's shadow forever? You want to keep doing the work of a monster?"

Chaolan hesitated. A third eye opening, curling horns erupting, long talons extending, enormous wings bursting out of Kazuya's back.

"Why would you… call him that?"

"A monster? He is a monster. You've seen what he's done to that company first hand. The terrible, terrible things he does. And while rumours don't leave these grounds, Chaolan, they certainly do circulate within it. I hear he gave you quite the beating when you were last here…"

"Shut up." Chaolan set his cup down and stood, shaking off the blanket. "I've heard enough of your madness."

"Do not be afraid, Chaolan. Do not let your fears lead you into regrets. Into weakness."

"_Weakness_?" Chaolan snapped, wheeling round. "You don't get to lecture me about fear and weakness! So this was your end game? Watching child abuse for years in the hope that once the children grew up they'd grow the spine you never did? You were someone to talk at, but you never had my back. You have no idea what Kazuya and I fucking went through together! I was weak in the past, yes. Weak like you. Weak for not standing up for him the way he did for me. Well, now I'm making up for lost time. I know who I'm standing with. He may be a monster, but he can change. He _is_ changing. Unlike one sad old man I know."

Chaolan banged open the hut door and plunged his feet into his boots.

"Chaolan, come back inside. It's raining and you're still wearing only that silly jacket. Come in and talk about this."

"I'm done talking," Chaolan strode off down the muddy track, kicking a trellis supporting climbing plants as he did so, "and my jacket is gorgeous, so fuck you!"

* * *

The autumnal mist clung close on his drive back. The air hung heavy with moisture and the peaty unknown of a wilder forest country that had always remained an enigma to Chaolan. He belonged in cities. The silent arms of old tree boughs always felt judgemental, as if the old earth around him could see through the careful layers he'd built up over the years to hide himself. The stillness of the world beyond the high life of skyscrapers had a way of showing up his veneer and pretences. It was harder to pretend he belonged in the Mishima's world when there was only the sky, the soil, and the stretches of fields that swayed in low moaning winds, sunken with hidden streams that sung songs of solitude.

He pulled up at the side of the road. The rumble of the engine fell silent. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He lit up a cigarette and got out.

He was nowhere in particular. Dark trees leaned over grey tarmac, pooling cold shadows over his sports car. He felt a chill again. The warm smoke in his mouth couldn't warm him up. He breathed the smoke out through his nose and frowned, chewing his lip.

'_Don't worry about Kazuya for now, he'll have other things on his mind'._

Just what did the old man mean by that? Did he know something Chaolan didn't? Uncertainties curled in Chaolan's chest. An ominous pressing sense of foreboding crawled into him and wouldn't be dislodged. He scratched his head and swore slightly. He reached back into the car and brought out his mobile phone. He looked at it, wondering what to do. Eventually he dialled.

"Hey, Shin Jae-suk speaking."

"Hello, Satsuma."

"Chaolan! Ah, it's so good to hear your voice. Everything alright?"

Chaolan's mouth made the shape of a smile and lies bloomed on his lips. He hesitated. The smile slowly faded.

"Yes, yes, everything's alright. You booked your tickets already?"

"Not yet, I was going to do it this evening. The days have been crazy here – we've been doing a photoshoot today."

"Mmm," Chaolan rested his elbows on the car bonnet, letting his imagination run wild. "Are you shirtless and in tight trousers?"

"What?! No! I'm in ski trousers and a duffel jacket with goggles and a hat and sunglasses and-"

"Hahaha, I know, I know. Let a guy dream why don't you."

"The photoshoot's for promotional stuff, you want people seeing me like that?"

"Hmm, I don't care as long as I get a blown up version that I can pin to my ceiling whilst you're away."

"You're such a shameless flirt, Lee Chaolan." There was a comfortable pause, then Jae-suk continued. "Do you want to talk about what's upsetting you?"

Chaolan frowned. He kept his voice light.

"I never said I was upset. Except about not getting racy pictures of you in king size."

"It's okay if you'd rather not. I never want to push you into talking if you don't want to."

"Push me into talking? Hahaha, I'm reliably told I never shut up, Satsuma."

There was silence. Chaolan's face soured. Jae-suk was getting too perceptive, seeing through him to the bitter core within. A fraction of him so badly wanted to reach out and take that lifeline, but another part of him was already shutting down those avenues as quickly as they opened.

"You shouldn't book the flights," Chaolan said.

"What? Why not?! Has something happened?"

"Not yet." Chaolan's heart hurt. He'd been looking forward to Jae-suk coming to stay for nearly two weeks. "But something's going to happen. I don't know what. I just have this feeling. And you shouldn't be here when it does."

"Chaolan, I want to be there for you. Let me in. Let me share a little of your burdens."

"You do not want the shit I'm carrying around." Silence. Chaolan shut his eyes and breathed out another ream of smoke. "Sorry, I'm sorry. This is difficult for me. I'll try to do better, okay?"

"Okay…" Jae-suk said uncertainly. "So… can I still fly out and see you this weekend?"

Chaolan looked up into the gathering gloom beneath the wild twisted tree trunks. The wind snapped at his jacket, sending pimples up over his skin and numbing his fingers. He took another long drag on his cigarette.

"Another time. There are things I have to look into for Kazuya this weekend."

"You give up so much of your time for your brother…" Jae-suk left unsaid the end of that sentence: the implication that such effort went unreciprocated.

"Indeed, I do. You have a problem with that?"

"No, no of course not." Jae-suk sounded unhappy. Chaolan heard him sigh on the other end of the line. "Look after yourself, Chaolan. I know you won't let anyone else do it."

"I'll call you when things have calmed down. I'm probably just being paranoid."

"Alright. I love you. Goodbye."

"… Goodbye." Chaolan hung up.

He sucked on the end of his cigarette and tapped the phone on the car bonnet. He blew smoke slowly out between his teeth. He stayed staring at the dark forest before him for a long while. He tossed the stub and got back into the car, checking his watch. It was getting late, but Anna Williams would probably still be overseeing the work at Kazuya's apartment. If he put his foot to the metal, perhaps he could get there before the day finished. There might be some distractions that would take his attention away from his current dilemmas.

* * *

**Author Note: **Lee storming away from Jinrei's house shouting that his jacket is gorgeous is one of my favourite parts of this story. There are lots of conflicting versions of what Lee did prior to TK2, so I decided to with a nod to one version, and instead to have Lee stay loyal to Kaz. He gets accused of being loyal to him by Heihachi, and in my head it was hard to reconcile that with a choice to go off and join with Jinrei, and it works better for the arc I wanted to tell that he does this this way. Having him slide into the shoes Kazuya left makes for quite bleak reading, I apologise, but I have sort of picked the bleakest part of these characters' lives to retell... It felt important to point out that even though Lee feels like he owes it to Kazuya to stick up for him, he is being pulled into Kazuya's greyer and greyer morality as a consequence. My next story is much shorter and much lighter don't worry- we get lots of Lee fussing over Jin and trying to look after him.

Two more chapters to go, so we'll be done on December 30th, bringing this story to a neat close at the end of the year! It's the third biggish novel I've written this year and I'm pretty excited to have learned so much and to have gotten more efficient at sitting down and writing things from start to finish :)


	19. A Good Dream

"Sir, you have a visitor. I asked them to wait outside until you're available."

Kazuya glanced up from the paperwork before him.

"Very good, Saito. Please inform them I will be out in a moment."

The bodyguard bowed low and backed out of the house, sliding shut the door to Kazuya's room. Kazuya returned his attention back to Kazama Kokoro, Jun's mother.

"So you should be able to claim back at least half of the tax that was taken," he continued, pushing the stack of papers along the table to her. "As the primary income earner, when your husband died, a much more substantial amount of his assets should have gone to you and your daughters. Inform the tax office that you believe they've made an error. If they continue to give you trouble, tell them to ring the Mishima Zaibatsu office and our legal team will be happy to chat through the rest with them." Kazama Kokoro bowed to him, Kazuya caught her elbow to stop her bowing too low. "No need for that, Mrs Kazama. By the way, you should consider trademarking the Kazama Ryu name so that you can control the legacy of your family's martial art. I know that your brother-in-law teaches the style with your family's blessing, but there may come a time when things are less amicable. Set legal precedents now so that they do not cause you trouble in the future."

"Thank-you, Kazuya," Kokoro smiled at him. There were lines in her cheeks from a lifetime of just such soft smiles. "But we don't want to cause any family strife. It will only stir up trouble to go and say this is Kazama Ryu and that is not. And besides, it is unlikely the style will ever leave this little island."

Kazuya tilted his head,

"It's more likely than you might think. When Jun comes back to Tokyo with me, she may start up a dojo of her own. Kazama Ryu could become world renowned. She has plans to make it a self-defence style especially to be trained by the vulnerable in society."

"Hmm, a dojo is it? That how you're planning on enticing her back to Tokyo?"

"I like to think there might be some other factors behind the decision." His lips formed a coy half smirk. Kokoro raised her kimono sleeve to hide her laugh. "Please excuse me." Kazuya stood, gave her a small bow and stepped out of his room. He slid into a pair of geta sandals and then down into the courtyard before the Kazama house. He saw no one in the yard except his bodyguards and a child. He frowned slightly.

"Forgive me, Mr Mishima. This boy asked to see you, but requested we not inform you who he was beforehand…"

"Indeed?" Kazuya looked down at the boy through arched eyebrows. "And what do you have to say for yourself, Higashi?"

The young boy matched his stare. Kazuya hadn't spoken to the child since the first time he helped Jun out in the dojo.

"I came to show you." The boy stuck out his lower lip at him. "Do a throw on me, Sensei Mishima." The boy hopped from foot to foot eagerly.

Kazuya folded his arms, sleeves swishing as he did.

"A throw. Any throw in particular, or do you want me to just lob you into a bush?"

"_Senseiii_, I mean a proper throw! With my wrist like this." The boy tried to put a wrist lock on himself. Kazuya hesitated. "Sensei, do it, do it, do it! Please!"

"Rolling onto a hard ground is not advisable. And besides, you're in your gi. You're going to get it filthy."

"Sensei!"

Kazuya took the child's arm in his hand very carefully. He saw his bodyguards shift out the corner of his eye, wary and uncertain.

"I'm doing the technique properly, alright?" he warned. The child nodded vigorously. He took the boys hand and locked up his wrist, turning it swiftly into a throw. The boy leapt over his arm, performing a high breakfall perfectly. He rolled and stood up at the end.

"See, Sensei Mishima! I did it!" Kazuya's chest bloomed with pride. A small smile crossed his face. It faded a little when he saw there were tears in the boy's eyes. He stepped closer. "Oh," the boy wiped his eyes quickly. "The stone was quite hard like you said." He sniffed. "But it didn't really hurt, and I did it!"

The boy looked up at him with brilliant shining eyes. Kazuya wasn't sure what more the boy wanted from him. He thought back to Chaolan at his age and the way he'd always been waiting for something from Heihachi. Kazuya set his hand on the boy's head and ruffled his hair slightly. The boy's grin grew wider and all his tears vanished. He bowed low to Kazuya, then skipped off down the through the trees towards the village. Kazuya stood watching him, rubbing his chin in thought.

"You interrupted a conversation about taxation for this?" he said aloud.

The bodyguards shifted and swallowed. They both bowed to him.

"We apologise, Mr Mishima."

Kazuya waved them away,

"Merely an observation. Would that all matters of business could be interrupted in such a manner."

Out the corner of his eye he caught them glance at each other in surprise. Life happened at a slower place in this village. Without Zaibatsu matters pressing on him at every moment, Kazuya had the space to exist in the present and to move his attention to each person before him, evaluating what was in front him without just the skeletal business necessities that his usual brutal pace of life required.

He looked up at the sun, marking its position in the sky. Jun would be finishing at the dojo. He glanced at the ground beyond the flagstones. It had rained yesterday and the unpaved roads would still be a little muddy. He checked the hem of his hakama. Traditional clothing was something that always felt it belonged to Heihachi, so Kazuya had put it as far from himself as he could, as soon as he could. Living alongside the Kazamas however, had helped to distance the association. The looser clothing was more comfortable in the Yakushima steady heat and Jun's father's clothes fitted him well. In the last few days the temperature had started to come down a little, but Kazuya hadn't felt the need to forgo kimono, hakama and haori just yet.

Just as he was about to set off toward the village, he heard a shattering sound come from inside the house. He leapt out of his sandals and skidded indoors.

Jun's sister, Nao, was standing with a stack of bowls teetering in her arms, one disaster already in ceramic pieces at her feet. Kazuya took the whole stack carefully from her and set them on the side.

"I'm okay, Ma!" She called through the house, then winced at Kazuya.

"Mind the crockery!" Her mother's voice wound back through the paper walls.

"A bit awkward to be saved by you," Nao said to him.

"I wasn't saving you," Kazuya returned mildly, "I was saving the bowls."

Nao paused for a moment, then a grin cracked on her face. She punched his upper arm lightly.

"Fair point." She reached for the bowls.

"How about I take care of these. And you deal with…" he looked down at his bare feet and the shattered fragments all over the floor.

"Oh! Right, yes."

Kazuya put the dishes away then helped Nao pick up the broken crockery. Kazuya went to open the bin.

"Oh – don't worry about that. It's a beautiful bowl, and the pieces are large. We'll put it back together." Kazuya raised an eyebrow. Nao smiled. "We practice kintsugi in our house. When things break, we put them back together with gold. The cracks will always be there, but that's a history we don't mind acknowledging has happened." She held up the broken pieces and slotted them together. "We illuminated the places where the bowl is cracked with a gold paint. It becomes part of its beauty. And then it can have purpose again."

"A lot of effort for a broken bowl," Kazuya remarked.

Nao shrugged,

"It's an effort well spent. Why throw away what seems to be broken when it can be made anew with a little care and attention?" She set the pieces down. Then turned back to him. "By the way, do you know if Jun's planning on going up the mountain before dinner? Just wondering what fresh food there's going to be for dinner."

"Not today. There's an additional class after the children's lesson that she's teaching. I doubt there'll be time to harvest vegetables."

"Alright. I'm making food today, I'll put it on for when Rei gets home from school, does that suit you?"

"Yes, should be fine. Thank you for cooking."

"Not at all." She gave him a glowing smile. He left her carefully moving pieces of broken pottery around on the kitchen surface, her fingers gentle and tender as they ran over the sharp edges.

Kazuya picked his way down through the small grove that parted the Kazama household from the village. He stepped at a sedate pace to keep mud from flicking up from the road, one hand behind his back, shoulders held tall and proud. His bodyguards followed ten steps behind. He surveyed the village roving under the warm colours of afternoon sunshine. Fish were being dried and salted in the sun, nets were being woven, along with wicker hats and wicker indoor shoes. There were bows of greeting as he passed through the streets. He gave a nod to each in return.

Before he'd walked far, a gangly man wandered towards him, feet double-stepping every few paces, his balance swaying a little. There was movement from behind Kazuya but he raised a hand slightly, keeping his guards from interfering.

"Maeda," Kazuya greeted.

The man before him bowed with some difficulty.

"Mr Mishima." The man slurred his words. "I…- You are not what I thought you'd be, sir. Not at all."

Kazuya raised an eyebrow and gestured that they should keep walking as they talked. Blinding rays of light hit the tin village roofs and made them wink as brilliant as the sapphire sea beyond.

"What I mean is," the man, Maeda, adjusted his pace to Kazuya's, "with your bearing and all – I was expecting a reprimand for the uh – condition that I turned up in yesterday at the Kazamas – not an introduction to how do you call it? _Whiskey_?"

A smirk appeared on Kazuya's lips.

"You fixed the tatami admirably. Why fault a man for his habits when it doesn't hinder his work?"

"I wish the rest of the world was as progressive thinking as you are, Mr Mishima."

"Oh, they will be one day," he assured the man, gazing into the distance.

"Sir, I don't know if you're being hopeful or threatening…"

"Can't one be both?"

Maeda gave a chuckle and scratched his head.

"Well, I don't want to trouble you. Just wanted to stop by and say my thanks and all. I know I'm not the sort that you're used to mingling with and I appreciate the patience."

"No need to thank me. I'm not a patient man at all. I simply value efficiency and skilled craftsmanship before other matters. Social nicety is not something I care for in others. Weakness and inefficiency are far more irritating traits than inebriation."

The man's expression floundered a little.

"You talk in a very educated way, Mr Mishima. I only went to that school on the hill." He pointed at the school in question. "So, I don't quite follow all you're saying and all. But thank you for the chance to try whiskey and for not minding my drinking and I won't take up any more of your time, sir." Maeda bowed low, and for a moment Kazuya thought he might not manage to stand back up again. Then the man refound his balance and staggered off down the road, adjusting the straw hat he'd almost lost and humming as he went. Kazuya's eyebrows raised as he watched. He brought his bodyguards forward with a gesture of his finger. They walked confidently up to his side. The trepidation in their footsteps had finally all but gone, he was pleased to see.

"Saito, Okabe. Think you could do your work while drinking a bottle of sake on the hour?"

Saito folded his arms in his suit jacket.

"Dulled wits when weaving mats is hardly a life or death matter," the guard muttered.

"That man only has to worry about the well-being of his fingertips, and not the CEO of the Mishima Zaibatsu," Okabe added.

Kazuya laughed.

"Textbook answers. Well done. Although you missed your window to ask for less strenuous terms to your employment. I can hardly fire you whilst you're the only suitable candidates on Yakushima Island."

"Give us advance warning when we're allowed to make inappropriate comments without risk of redundancy then, sir."

"Moment's over."

"We'll raise the anxiety defcon level back to one and continue business as usual then, sir."

"One? Really?" He threw an incredulous glance back at them. "Working for me is that stressful?"

"Yes," they both replied in unison.

Kazuya laughed again. He saw their shoulders relax and the slight tugs of amusement ghost into their serious faces. He grinned, then kept walking. The clack of his sandals reverberated up the street. His guards waited a few paces to give him his space again.

The sky was inching toward another strident scarlet sunset as Kazuya walked up the hill to the dojo. He paused part way up it and turned to the sea. He clasped his hands behind his back and breathed in deeply. The salt air was clean and fresh in his lungs. The breakers washing back and forth on the beach as the tide came in tolled out distant but constant metronome. The call of different vendors and workers starting to wind down for the day filled the air, and was offset by the cry and wheel of seabirds hovering home on the high currents after long hours fishing at sea. Kazuya watched the sea slip into shades of burning gold. The mountain ridges extending out into the water as thick spurs were all shouldered in dark, bristling forests that ruffled in the wind. The quiet mountain behind him slumbered silent with an almost mystic serenity, untouched by the busy life at its feet.

Kazuya turned when he heard the sound of a sliding door being pushed back. He began walking up the hill again, in time to see students stepping out the dojo, bowing as they left and collected their belongings. He paused when he saw Jun. Her hair was tied up but a strand had come loose and was hanging at her cheek. One end of her black belt was longer than the other. She had a serious expression on her face as she clarified something to a student. She gestured with her hands as she did, demonstrating a wrist lock. The student bowed to her and she nodded. She set her hands on her hips, watching them depart with a kind of pride. Then she caught Kazuya looking at her. The colour rose in her cheeks and Kazuya decided he would never tire of seeing her blush for him.

He closed the short distance between them and wrapped an arm around her waist, brushing the stray lock of hair from her face with a hand.

"Kazuya!" she glanced about her, "the others will see!"

"I think your students know I'm not here for the sea view. It is particularly fine this evening, but Yakushima is tempting me with finer sights at present."

Her cheeks got redder.

"Stop flirting in public, I've got a reputation to uphold!" She made to push him away, but didn't put much effort into the movement.

"Oh? This is the strength of the mighty Kazama Ryu grandmaster?"

"Want me to throw you to the ground?"

"No!" he pouted, "I'm in my clean clothes and there's mud everywhere."

Jun put her hand to her mouth but failed to cover her laughter. Kazuya let her go a little, and came to stand next to her, resting a hand more lightly on the small of her back. He looked out again at the sunset.

"Still not used to seeing that."

She let out a long sigh and leaned her head against his shoulder. They stood together watching the sun start to sink.

"Sensei Kazama?" A young woman slipped into her sandals, already changed back into regular clothes with a sportsbag over one shoulder. Jun turned to her, though stayed in Kazuya's embrace, apparently not as concerned as she'd claimed to be at the display of affection. "I told my cousin about this class and about how you said complete beginners were welcome, and she said she'd like to try coming along." Jun smiled and nodded with encouragement. "But, Sensei, when her mother heard, she said women weren't permitted to train Kazama Ryu when she was young." A shadow fell over Jun's features. "So she said, since she never had the chance in her youth, did you really mean _anyone_ can come along, and could my cousin's mother come along, even though she's celebrated her sixtieth birthday quite some years ago now."

Jun's face split into a smile and Kazuya felt relief heave through her.

"Of course! The health benefits of training are more than reason enough for anyone to come along, regardless of age."

"Oh, she doesn't want to come along for health benefits, Sensei. She says she wants to be able to give her grandsons who steal her radishes a good beating."

Jun's eyebrows raised.

"I'm sure we'll be able to accommodate her. And perhaps help her find a more meditative mindset that leads her to peaceful resolutions elsewhere in life…"

"I'll give her tips on revenge," Kazuya added. Jun elbowed him. He feigned pain. The student grinned, then bowed once to Jun and once to Kazuya.

"You're terrible," Jun murmured to him as the students walked down the road or pulled bicycles out of hedges to ride wobbly up the hill and over to the next town.

"That'll be the final nail in my reputation: Mishima accused of masterminding the punishment of radish thieves dealt out by sixty-year-old grandma."

Jun turned in his arms.

"Talking of reputation…" He gave a heavy sigh, but surrendered to being questioned by her. "Lei Wulong?"

"Being released from prison. Some time this week. All charges dropped."

Jun's eyes softened and his heart skipped a beat. With one look she could take him back to that office where he'd first seen her, still enchanting him with a single, piercing look.

"The animals the Zaibatsu is keeping in captivity?"

"I'll oversee their release to the appropriate authorities when I return to Tokyo."

"The doctor you had kidnapped?"

"I will speak to him about the future of his employment and give him leave to part ways with us if that is what he desires."

"… And Chaolan?"

Kazuya's brow furrowed.

"What about him?"

"You don't treat him fairly, Kazuya."

"He's running the Zaibatsu for me. He has everything he needs. And more besides. I give him almost everything he asks for. How am I not treating him fairly? Also I made him some new toys to play with. A robotics laboratory for starters."

"He doesn't want more things. He wants to be respected and loved by you."

"He knows I… that. What you said."

"Respect and love him?"

Kazuya's lip wrinkled at the words.

"Mm," he said vaguely.

"Does he really?"

"Of course. It's a complicated relationship. We don't talk about… things as openly as you and I do. The past is best left in the past. Neither of us wish to be reminded by it. And besides. What he wants most is for me to… get my anger under control. And to clean up the Zaibatsu. Most of the more unsavoury things I was doing were in order to research ways to harness my own… my uh… you know." He gestured to himself, still unwilling to talk about the darkness that had overtaken him and manifested before her in the sanctity of her dojo. "Now that I'm… attempting to remove my reliance on such a power, things will start changing the way he wants them to. Admittedly I also got angry in the past and did some things for f-… to pass the time when I was frustrated. And perhaps on other occasions I had some rather heavy handed methods. But things do not change overnight."

"Perhaps you could start by not keeping him as a junior employee."

Kazuya glanced at her, just a little sharply.

"_I _am the owner of the Zaibatsu, not him."

"Stop treating him as your inferior. He's not a threat to you."

Kazuya fixed her with a look.

"He is very much a threat. That's why I defanged him and made him a secretary. I guarantee he's thought of overthrowing me and seizing the Zaibatsu for himself at least once every day since I left. The only reason he won't have made a move is about fifty-fifty fear and loyalty. He has unpaid debts to me, and he knows I'd tear him apart if he came for my throne."

"Kazuya!" Jun reprimanded.

Kazuya shrugged.

"You don't know him like I do. Our lives were forced to be one long competition against one another. We've done our best to overcome those rivalries and make an unsteady peace. But Chaolan and I always worked best together in the face of insurmountable odds. Now that our father is dead, we must find a new kind of peace or all that rivalry and hatred is going to come thundering home. I find the most useful deterrent for rebellion is manipulation and healthy dose of fear. He knows this. And he knows that's why I keep him where I do. And besides, he's good at what he does. I need someone trustworthy in that position. It's a show of trust that I let him arrange my schedule." Jun's features fell as she listened to all this. When Kazuya caught sight of her expression, a sadness and guilt stirred inside him. She didn't need to say anything: he could hear a thousand words just in that puncturing melancholy gaze she pinned him with. "But…" he muttered, "it wouldn't do any harm to review the situation when I return. He is… a competent person to have about. Might lighten the load if I gave him a few more important responsibilities. I'm not making any promises, though. And it wouldn't be like he'd be running it as my equal… But I suppose there might be a more prestigious position I could give him that would make him resent me less…" His murmurings trailed off. He snapped his eyes back to Jun's face to gauge her response. A flood of relief flowed through him when he saw her expression bright and tender again.

"That sounds good," she whispered, "but… you really shouldn't be doing this all just for me, Kazuya. You can do things just because they're fair, and they're right…"

"Hmmm… but I've found my moral compass." He circled his hands about her waist again. "And she's so much more beautiful than anything inside my mess of a head." Jun shook her head slightly, a smile escaping her. "Also, I told your sister you're not going up that mountain to collect vegetables."

"What! Why?!" Jun pulled back.

"Because you've been working all afternoon and the sun is setting. It's time for home and a shower, not sauntering off for mountain adventures."

"But I promised them that I-"

"Then stop promising so much. The world isn't going to end just because you take a break and relax at the end of the working day."

Jun grumbled at that.

"Fine," she muttered, though her face was still sullen. Kazuya kissed the tip of her nose.

"Come, let's walk."

"I'm still in my gi, I'll change and then-"

"No point. It needs washing anyway. Walk with me or you'll miss the sunset."

Jun hesitated, then picked up her bag, slipped her hand into Kazuya's and they set off down the road. She smiled at Kazuya's bodyguards as they passed them. Kazuya kept watching her out the corner of his eye.

"It's a radiant evening," she noted. Warm, soft light eased into the village and stretched the little houses with brown shadows.

"Yes it is," he agreed, eyes never leaving her.

She glanced at him. Her cheeks and nose went pink and she scowled.

"Did you help my mother with whatever it is you wanted to look over for her?"

"Mmhm."

"You need to stop charming my family. It makes it very hard for me to do things when they're all taking your side over everything."

"Yes, a terrible turn of events. I'm in such a hurry to correct it." She elbowed him, but he caught it before it needled him. "Aggression isn't very aiki-jujutsu of you, is it." He smirked. "It's nice having someone on my side for once. You're always bending arguments in your direction, I like having three other Kazamas interjecting to back me up."

"You just like people agreeing with you," she said sullenly.

"If that was true, I certainly wouldn't be in a relationship with you, would I."

The stone courtyard at the Kazama house was all cream and mellow russet shadows, and filled with the smells of sizzling food and the clatter of hot woks when they arrived. The eaves of the house leaned out of the overgrowth of woolly dark trees welcoming them home. Jun tugged open a rickety shed door reached inside and scooped up seeds from a sack. She handed the bowl to Kazuya as she struggled to shut the door again.

"I'm getting in the shower and you're not coming too."

"That a challenge?"

"No, it's a fact, Mishima Kazuya. Dinner's almost ready and…"

"Yes? There a particular reason why I might slow you down?"

"You're impossible," she muttered, embarrassed again. "Feed the chickens and stop being such a flirt."

He laughed and ran his fingers through the seed. Jun left to go and get ready. There was a flutter of wings and a squawking, summoned by the sound of sifting seeds. Half a dozen hens fell over each other in an effort to cluster around him. He scattered seeds idly and the birds eddied about his feed, scratching and pecking as they fought each other for food. He crouched down and ran his hands over their vibrant shuffling feathers as they jostled. He looked up as he did. Crickets were chirruping and wending their thrumming song through the evening. The sky was growing darker. A line of storm clouds was building on the horizon. The air was colder, and the leaves around him shuffled and whispered with the promise of the end of summer.

When the bowl was empty, he slipped out of his sandals to go and help prepare dinner. The central room was alive with a flurry of activity. An enormous black pot was boiling on the open fire pit, crackling and glowing with the crumble of molten wood splitting into charcoal. The kitchen was filled with steam and the bursting sizzle of hot oil and smell of sesame and soy. Kazuya came in time to save a knife that was being edged off the kitchen surface in all the commotion. He set it to one side, then relieved one of Jun's sisters of an enormous pot of boiling water used for steaming the pak choi and poured it down the sink. When matters looked like they were more under control, he returned to the main room and took the wooden spoon out of Jun's mother's hand and stirred the rice on the fire.

"Does the taxes _and_ the rice, Jun should keep hold of you," she winked at him. He gave a wry grin.

"You should tell her as much when she comes in. She doesn't truly appreciate my range of talents, Mrs Kazama."

"I will, don't you worry! She's such an unruly young lady. When she was a girl she always had mud on her face and was running off up that mountain to study plants or explore caves or tend the highest shrines in the cliffs. I despaired that she'd never find a young man. And yet here you are, and so well-mannered and well-dressed! She could learn a thing or two from you."

"Jun? Learn from me?!" Kazuya laughed. It felt free and easy to laugh with these people. "You're the only one who thinks so, Mrs Kazama." He heard his mobile phone ring from his bedroom.

"Oh, I meant to tell you that's been going off whilst you were out." Jun's mother took the spoon back from him. "You better go answer it."

Kazuya gave her a small bow and excused himself from the room. Jun's sisters were bickering in the kitchen, and snatches of a song were just audible over the splash of the shower. Kazuya paused to listen to Jun sing. The warmth he felt just then had nothing to do with the Yakushima humidity, or the open hearth fire, or the steaming kitchen vegetables. He could feel an ache in his chest like his heart was fuller than it had ever been before. He let out a breath, then hurried to his room and picked up his phone.

"Mishima Kazuya speaking."

"Where the _fuck_ have you been?! I've been calling for an _hour!_"

Kazuya's peace of mind slumped. He could hear the chaos of the world he'd left behind in Chaolan's voice.

"You're upset."

"No shit I'm upset!" There was a disturbingly raw edge to Chaolan's words, like he was about to burst into tears. Kazuya closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, wondering what he could have possibly done wrong now. He took a deep breath and drew together his patience. Before he could speak, Chaolan spoke again. "_K-Kazuya._" His voice was small and broken and just the sound of it made Kazuya's eyes snap wide open and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He gripped the phone with both hands, knuckles going white.

"What?" He could hear his brother trying to control his breathing. It still sounded ragged. It had been a long time since Chaolan had been as uncomposed as this about something that didn't have Kazuya as the direct cause. "_What?!_" he pressed, agitated by Chaolan's anguish and the distance between them that meant he couldn't read him by his other tells. "Did someone hurt you? What's happened?"

More stuttered breathing. Kazuya strained to listen to it, trying to pull apart those sounds. Fear and not just pain. Perhaps it was something Chaolan had done and not something _he'd_ done. Good, he preferred feeling anger to guilt.

"Are you with others? You should step outside," Chaolan managed.

"Answer my fucking question!"

"Step outside, Kazuya."

That was said more evenly. It disturbed Kazuya even more than the pain in his brother's voice had. Kazuya slid open the door of his bedroom and stepped out into the yard. He shut the door behind him. He forewent his sandals and stepped barefoot onto the flagstones. They were still warm with the old light of the now-set sun. Chickens waddled back over to him hoping for extra seeds. Their claws clicked on the stone.

"I'm outside. Will you please talk to me now, Chaolan?"

Another silence. It infuriated Kazuya so much he had to focus all his energy on calming his breathing so as not to scare off his brother by that sign alone.

"I… I received a letter."

Kazuya stayed silent. Chaolan staid nothing more.

"Chaolan, I swear-" he stopped himself when he heard the faint sound of a sob. Confused and disturbed, Kazuya hesitated. "I'm here. I'm with you. Talk to me. What's got you like this? Nothing shakes you like this. You're Lee Chaolan, impervious to everything the world throws at you. You haven't been like this since…-"

Kazuya cut himself off. Something cold flashed through him, like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on him.

"I-I'll read you the letter," Chaolan whispered, his voice all ghosts and fear. He drew in a shuddering breath. "T-to a certain-… T-to a certain Sh-shanghai street orphan." Kazuya's heart was beating so loud in his own head it was hard to concentrate on Chaolan's words. "You have had m-many opportunities to serve the t-true legacy of the M-m… Mishima, but have instead chosen to continue aligning yourself with the… the m-maniacal tyrant calling himself the CEO of the Mishima Zaibatsu. As you have chosen your side, this letter hereby informs you that you will suffer the same fate as he when the Zaibatsu is taken from your ungrateful,… dishonourable, b-backstabbing hands. Make what peace you can in your depraved life. Soon it, and everything you ever gained from the Mishima name, w-will be s-stripped from you, and you will b-become… the nothing you were born into once again. What I give, I can just as easily take away. You b-breathe on b-borrowed time."

There was silence in the courtyard. The chickens around Kazuya's feet all as one made disturbed chattering squawks darting away from him and into the undergrowth.

"He…" Chaolan continued, voice a shattered whisper, "he didn't sign it, except for the family stamp. Th-the one that I thought y-you kept only at the estate. That means-… I guess that means he can get in – and has been in, or someone let him." Chaolan was starting to gabble in wayward desperation. "I suppose there are people still loyal to him. And maybe in the Zaibatsu too. We didn't purge it properly since we thought that he was-…"

Another silence. The wind rustled the trees. The clatter of pans from inside the house sounded so distant Kazuya could barely comprehend it was in the same world.

"Kazuya, you fucking _promised_ me!" Chaolan exploded suddenly. There was fury and a kind of anger to him that Kazuya hadn't heard before. "You _promised_!"

Kazuya couldn't quite set his thoughts in order. He couldn't rewind enough of his mind fast enough to pick up the pieces of paranoia and terror from where he'd left them. His mind was white and numb. His lips moved wordlessly for a bit before he managed to form words.

"There must be a mistake. That can't be right," he said slowly, all disengaged and uncertain.

"You _promised _me!" There was hysteria in his brother's voice now. "You destroy everything and everyone around you! Why couldn't you get this one thing right and destroy the one person who needed destroying!"

"I-I checked!" Kazuya stammered. "You think I didn't check? I-I watched his body. He wasn't moving after I threw him off that cliff!"

"Wasn't _moving_? That's not fucking _checking_, Kazuya. _Checking_ is stabbing him a thousand times, p-pulling his heart out, b-burying him in the bottom of an ocean with a lead weight, or even laying your finger on his fucking _p-pulse!_ Any of _those_ are _checking!"_

Kazuya's hand hovered near his mouth. A bit his finger. His breaths were coming shorter.

"This can't be right. This can't be happening."

"Who else would say that stuff?! Who else would write like that, would know those things?! The b-bit where he says I had ch-chances… Wang Jinrei asked me to go and see him a few days ago. H-he wanted me to try and… he wanted me to take the Zaibatsu for my own. He said you would be distracted. Distracted. I never thought-… Not in my wildest dreams did I think he meant-"

Kazuya blinked. Rage filmed over his eyes, snapping at anything that would save him from the drowning terror that was clawing its way up his throat like a vengeful corpse from a grave.

"He wanted you to _what?!_"

"Kaz, you know I would never – I'm loyal to you and only you. I told him to fuck off. I was going to tell you all about it sooner, but-"

"Yes, do tell me, but _what?!_" Kazuya paced about the yard, eyes flashing.

"Kaz, please," his brother begged, "don't be like this now of all times. I didn't want you to be furious. I wanted Jun to have a chance with you. Have a chance of helping you. You always seemed so much better around her. I thought if I told you sooner about Wang Jinrei that it would set back the work that-"

"You're damn right it would have set it back! And with good reason! This changes everything! It-"

Kazuya stormed in a circle. He drove a hand back through his hair with such violence that his haori sleeve whipped into his face. He pulled the tangled jacket off him and threw it on the floor.

"Don't be angry with me," Chaolan pleaded. "You're all I have. You know what that letter means. You know this means I'm out. He's going to take me down with you. I've given up everything for you, Kazuya, don't shut me out now. I'm with you or I'm dead. It won't be like last time: he won't be all sadist games and melodrama for the media. He's out for blood. I'm fucking dead. I'm dead if-"

"Quiet! Shut up! I need to think! Alright. You're mine. You're with me. There's no point letting him or Jinrei or anyone divide us. But don't fucking keep things from me just because-"

"I won't. I won't, I won't, Kaz. Thank-you. Thank-you. I'll do whatever you ask. We'll take him down together. We'll finish this and this time we'll make sure he doesn't get up again."

"This can't-… It must be some sick joke. Find me evidence. Find me a camera with his face on. A sighting. Anything. Maybe he wrote that letter before he died, to be sent later. Some last game from beyond the grave to screw with us."

"B-but Wang Jinrei said-"

"Fuck that old man! I'll deal with him later. Scratch that. He knows something about Heihachi. Go and find him. Demand answers by any means necessary. Just m-"

"Make it happen. I understand. I'll do it. But, Kazuya, do you really think he-… Could it really be that after all this time he-… Has he been watching us? Has he been watching me? Oh fuck, what if he-… what if he's seen that I'm-… that I…"

"It makes no difference what he's seen. If he's truly still alive, we will spin a web and catch him. I will finish what I started."

"I can't let Jae-suk come back. I can't see anyone. He'll use them to get to me. You can't bring Kazama Jun back here. We're not ready for this. I haven't been training hard enough. I'll stop drinking. I'll stop partying. I'll stop-… Kazuya, come home, I don't know what to do. This wasn't meant to happen. This wasn't how it was meant to end."

"Calm down, calm down. I'm coming home. I'll order the chopper and it'll pick me up first thing tomorrow. In the mean time make yourself useful. Get a handwriting analysis run, and date that letter if you can. Pull up CCTV and find out how the letter got to you. Get footage from the estate and see if we have him on camera. Question Wang Jinrei and see what he knows. Chaolan? Are you listening to me?" he said sharply.

Chaolan sniffed. Kazuya could hear him breathing hard down the phone.

"Y-yes, yes."

"Start rooting through our employees looking for weak links. People who were loyal to him in the old days. Fire whoever you want to. Don't hire anyone new."

"Kazuya. Kaz, do you really think father's still alive?"

"I don't know. I don't fucking know. I'll be with you tomorrow. Stay calm for me until then, alright? Don't do anything stupid. Keep a low profile. Take guards with you everywhere."

"You'll-… You'll be with me tomorrow?"

"Yes. Stop worrying. You won't sleep if you worry. I need you at your sharpest tomorrow, alright? I need your cunning. Get some sleep. Is my apartment fixed?"

Chaolan sniffed,

"Y-yes, I just had it finished for you this week. It's not exactly the same, but I tried to make it how you'd l-like it…"

"Good, that's good. I'm sure it looks good. Are the new locks all fitted?"

"Y-yes, Kazuya."

"Stay there tonight then. You stay there, and keep some guards there overnight. I'll find you tomorrow."

"Come back quickly," Chaolan breathed, and Kazuya hated the note of sheer terror with which it was said.

"I will," Kazuya promised. "I will. Stay strong. We're the fucking Mishima legacy, not him. We'll make it through this."

After he hung up, Kazuya set the phone calmly on the low wall.

The chickens in the bushes scattered further from him, clucking in distress.

He curled his fingers into fists. The veins on the back of his hand stood out purple.

"Kazuya?" Jun called him from the house. "Kazuya? Dinner is ready!"

Kazuya closed his eyes.

* * *

Jun rolled up the sleeves of the yukata she'd slipped into. She tied up her wet hair and called again from the main room.

"Kazuya?"

She helped her sisters set small, bright dishes on the table, all brimming with steaming fresh vegetables and pungent soy soaked tofu. She brought over a large, patterned, china dish for her mother to strain the rice into.

She padded over the tatami and stepped onto the polished wood before the main door. She slid it open.

The courtyard beyond was empty.

Jun frowned.

She slipped into sandals by the door and stepped out into the evening. Crickets were calling from thick waxy rhododendron bushes, blossoms all vibrant magnolia pink by the dying light. Her sandals clacked on the stone yard. She turned about her. Kazuya's discarded haori was on the floor. She picked it up and dusted it down. It had been her father's and the embroidery on it was still as fine as the day it had been bought. She hung it over her arm and held it to her. Unease settled in her stomach.

She saw Kazuya's mobile phone on the low wall. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands. The bushes stirred behind her. She peered into the shadowy foliage. A frightened chicken bolted clucking out of the leaves. It came and nestled under the hem of her yukata. She reached down and stroked it, comforting the bird by petting it under its beak where its throat was soft. The hen settled into content soft mumbling. Soon the other chickens stumbled out the undergrowth too, all clustering about her.

Jun glanced up and down the path, but saw no sign of anyone. Finally she looked up. Above, there were only roving dark storm clouds, clipping out the silvery light of a pale moon.

* * *

**Author Note: **Sorry on the delayed chapter, was a bit busy yesterday and wanted to read through one last time before I uploaded it. Here is the descent I think you all knew had to come. I hope all your little hearts don't break :)

Thanks again for your reviews and comments, I love reading them and it's very exciting to here your excitement. I love writing this story, but I'm very familiar with it, having proof read its chapters for weeks, so hearing your comments as you read it for the first time gets me all excited with you 3


	20. The End of Summer

"Kazuya, wait! Explain this to me."

The helicopter blades were whirring so loudly that Jun had to shout over them to be heard. There was a storm of fine sand about them, stirred up by the chopping air.

"I explained." Kazuya was calm and so controlled Jun couldn't feel his emotions. There was a shroud about him that shielded him from her. He was a tight whirlpool of so much conflict that no single emotion directed his actions or made itself known to her.

"Your father is alive. Possibly. But even so-…" She took his arm and pulled him further up the beach so that she could hear herself talk. "But this doesn't have to change everything. It doesn't have to change what we've been doing here. It doesn't have to change… our lives, the things we had planned."

He fixed her with eyes more honest than her own. There was still that earnest, open Kazuya looking back at her from under those very Mishima eyebrows.

"You know me," he said simply. "You know what this changes."

"Kazuya, don't go back there like this. You're not in control. You're… i-in an in between place."

"Jun." He touched her cheek. She could feel the finality in the gesture before he even spoke. "I have to go. I'm going back to finish what I started. Nothing will get between me and his end. I swore that." He glanced behind him. His bodyguards were loading the last of his luggage onto the helicopter. Kazuya's long trenchcoat fanned out in the cut of the churning air. He pushed his sunglasses up into his hair and looked down at her. It was strange seeing him in a suit again after the kimono and hakama he'd worn for the last week or so. "I swore that from the flat of my back as I looked up at that impossibly high cliff with only a demon for company. Heihachi dies by my hand. I promised myself. I promised my brother. The world is a better place without him."

"Kazuya-"

"Don't!" Kazuya raised a finger sharply. The movement made Jun jump. He hesitated, retracting his hand to make it less threatening. "Don't try and dissuade me. There's no point. I'm leaving."

"Fine." Jun glared fiercely up at him. "But I'm coming too."

"I'm leaving now. There's no time for this. I told Chaolan I'd be home by this afternoon."

"I don't need to pack. I don't need things. I don't need anything but you."

Kazuya stared at her. They warred in silence for a moment, then Kazuya glanced away.

"Do as you wish. But I'm going to do what I must. Don't blame me if you don't like it."

They walked back across the beach toward the helicopter. Kazuya stuck his hands in his waistcoat pockets, shoulders hunched. A gaggle of children had jumped down from the breakwater and were playing in the sun-scattered shadows cast by the whirling helicopter blades.

Kazuya's path was blocked abruptly by a small boy. Jun glanced at Kazuya. His brows had knitted.

"Sensei Mishima, do you have to leave? There are loads of other cool things I wanted to show you!" Higashi, her young student was looking imploringly up at Kazuya. His eyes were dark and stubborn and maybe on the edge of being upset. The boy put his hands on his hips. "I'm not moving! You have to stay here!"

Kazuya raised an eyebrow.

"Can you still do those high breakfalls?"

"Sure I can!" The boy immediately glowed under Kazuya's interest. He held his arm to his chest, and flipped over it, rolling in the sand and coming up to a stand a metre or so away. Kazuya gave a half smirk and stepped up onto the helicopter now that his path was clear.

"Hey! Sensei Mishima, you tricked me!"

Kazuya gave him a lazy salute and disappeared inside. Jun gave the boy an apologetic smile. She looked back up the beach. The village was gathered again, like they had when Kazuya first arrived. Their curious, inquiring faces were innocent of the bombshells rocking the world she'd been building. Her family wasn't here. Rei was at school and her mother hadn't realised Kazuya planned to leave so was out the back of the house gardening. She'd probably be picking vegetables for two too many people for dinner this evening.

"Jun!" A voice called across the beach. She could just make out the impatient click of Kazuya's tongue from behind her. "Jun!" Nao ran across the sand, a bag swinging in her hand. She thrust it into Jun's hands then threw her arms around her. "A few-" she was out of breath "- things for you. Not much as I didn't have time. I only just realised that he'd… he'd go. And you'd be stupid enough to follow." There were quiet, unasked questions in her sister's eyes. She said nothing more though. Jun embraced her and whispered,

"Thank-you." There wasn't time for anything more.

She stepped up into the helicopter. Kazuya helped her in, and it took off the moment she was seated. She looked down and could see Nao stretching her arms out to keep the children well back from the blades. Upturned faces and waving hands instantly blurred as their features drifted further away.

"Goodbye, Jun! Goodbye, Mr Mishima!" Shouts from below followed them up until the wind and the height drowned out all other sound. Jun waved for as long as she could make out faces. Then she glanced at Kazuya. He was looking out the other window toward the sea and the endless horizon. He was robed in shadows. She could see calculating cold things behind his eyes. She placed her palm upon his knee. He stirred. She turned away to look at Yakushima spread out like the map in her bedroom, all contours of thick forest that could never convey the mystery and spirit that lingered amidst the roots and towering trunks of its old trees. She felt fingers lightly touch hers. She took a steadier breath, glad that he was at least somewhere inside that hurt creature beside her.

* * *

Jun was silent for the helicopter journey. Kazuya spoke over his radio headset to his guards and made notes in a folder. She watched his brow furrow and his fingers shuffle anxiously through sheets of paper. He looked up occasionally to give her brief smiles, haunted with the weight of tasks ahead of him. Whenever she stretched out a hand, he would place his on hers, not looking up from his work, but running his calloused fingertips over her knuckles. The fresh sea air and buffeting wind was alive all around them cocooning them in a bubble of their own worries.

Jun was silent as they crossed the landing strip outside Kagoshima and walked up the steps to a Zaibatsu private jet. Kazuya was giving orders as they walked. He received a handful of papers from an aide. His coat flapped in the wind as he ascended to his plane. He paused once to look at the scuffed white trails of clouds bright against a sheer blue autumn sky. He looked back at Jun once and gave her a smile, this time it was smaller, and troubled by sorrows. It reached all the way inside her and turned things there – this bright, desperate love, and a terrible sense of doom and foreboding.

Jun was silent as the plane took off and the rice fields glittered as silver rectangles under the wink of sunlight. Kazuya spread files out before him on a table and drank whiskey neat from a cut crystal glass. His face was more stern now. He didn't have time to look up out the window. He rocked his glass on the table, the only sign betraying his inner turmoil. Jun had to tilt her head and shift her hand to try and catch his gaze. When he glanced at her it was only for a moment. The mechanical almost-smile held no content and was gone a second later as his gaze fell back to his papers.

Jun was silent as the plane landed in a private runway in Tokyo and the smog rose up around them and wavered in the cold light. Kazuya filed everything into briefcases and picked up his phone and answered a call the moment he stepped off the plane. The sky above Tokyo was grey and the first dead leaves skipped around Kazuya's feet as his smart shoes clacked on concrete. His thick, black, eyebrows were fierce and his lips twisted in displeasure as he listened to the call. His responses were all snapped and short. He only spared Jun one look, before his attention flicked elsewhere.

Jun was silent as the limousine pulled out of the airfield with a purr and sped through the haze of lights blurred in the Tokyo streets. Kazuya talked heatedly on the phone, tapping a fountain pen impatiently on a page and causing large blotches to spill and spread. All his energy was absorbed in the matter before him.

The limousine stopped before the Zaibatsu building in the early afternoon.

Kazuya got out immediately and his guard formed up about him. A flock of smart black suits, armed, and hidden behind sunglasses moved in perfect formation. Jun stepped hesitantly up to Kazuya. They walked up the broad steps to the glass doors. The tall Zaibatsu tower looked down at them. An empty sky stood behind it. As they entered the lobby, employees lined either side of the doorway. They bowed to Kazuya as he swept in.

"Welcome back, Boss," Bruce Irvin said. The familiar tall figure fell into step with Kazuya, forming a natural shadow to his movements. An elevator on the left _bing_ed and two figures stepped out. One was a woman dressed in a short black skirt and fur coat, with stockings up to her thighs and lethal looking heels. Next to her was Chaolan in a pinstripe white suit and candy-coloured shirt. Dark rings were under his sharp, snapping eyes and he was handing a wad of paper half an inch thick to the woman. He glanced up. A strangled cry escaped his throat and he ran forward, throwing his arms around Kazuya. Kazuya allowed the embrace for a moment, and rested one hand on the back of his brother's head, murmuring something in his ear that Jun couldn't catch. Chaolan clung to him for a few seconds longer before Kazuya shrugged him off.

Kazuya gestured to the elevator. Jun paused. The world was sliding back. Back to a place of boundaries where she didn't belong. Thunderstorms and tangled sheets and wild nights where the wind blew sideways and the rain came lashing down were already so far away. The man in the suit that the room revolved around felt so far from the one that had bowed his head into her arms and breathed softly in the secrecy of her embrace.

Kazuya stepped into the elevator. He turned around and frowned. Chaolan, Bruce, Jun, and Anna were all standing in the doorway, waiting on his word.

"Chaolan, with me. I need to talk to my brother alone. The rest of you take the next lift."

Jun saw relief spread on Chaolan's face. She watched him as he moved to Kazuya's side, eyes all eager yet somehow haunted by a terrible, terrible weight.

Jun waited in the lobby. Her eyes moved around the reception area, picking out the place where she'd first paused to look around at the impressive architecture, and the place where she'd stopped with Lei Wulong to catch their breaths as they ran in from the late metro, and the place where she'd sat and hesitantly looked out at the police car parked on the street: all somehow so far away in time and belonging to the worries of another life.

She stepped into the elevator with Bruce and the other woman.

"Anna Williams," the woman said to her, "and what are you, a PA?" Bruce passed her a sharp glance. Anna leaned back against the mirrored lift wall and gave a silvery laugh. "Ah, the girlfriend then. Have to say, I'm a little surprised. Kazuya firmly struck me as someone who'd never settle down with anyone." Jun said nothing. "I mean no offence by it." Anna winked at her, "he's certainly a catch, no doubt about it, if you can get past all the anger and violent tantrums." Bruce shifted again. Anna folded her arms, "Bruce, darling, I feel your protective mothering instincts kicking in, but you did _not_ see Mishima Kazuya up close and personal at the Iron First Tournament. Lethal force of nature meets unbridled desire for revenge. He put half the competition in hospital and didn't break a sweat. The man has an iron focus when it comes to taking what he's owed. Forgive me if I can't see him as the sentimental type." She swivelled her attention back to Jun, "What's your secret, mysterious silent girlfriend? How'd you pin him down?"

Jun's eyes lidded and she kept her focus firmly forward. The small elevator was a whirl of unguarded emotions, but Jun kept that at a distance. She was too tired for empathy. The world around her was growing dark, pushing her hopes to a thin strip of light on a horizon that kept moving further away. There was a coldness to her voice when she spoke.

"What's _your_ secret, Ms Williams? Does the Zaibatsu know you're here out of a sense of guilt?"

Jun saw Anna's eyes flash in the mirror walls of the elevator. Surprise and disturbance still registered on the woman's face. The lift stopped and the door rolled open and Jun stepped out. Anna was whispering harshly to Bruce, but Jun couldn't catch her words. Jun pulled back her shoulders and walked into Chaolan's office.

The brothers were conversing quietly by the window. Chaolan was passing printed stills of video footage to Kazuya. Their faces were both grim. Kazuya looked up when the others entered.

"Ms Williams, glad you could make it to Japan on short notice. You'll be working as a bodyguard for now. Chaolan can have his much coveted secretary job back again."

Chaolan gave a weak smile but didn't dare raise an objection. Jun's brow darkened.

"I've been informed that we let go fifteen employees last night," Kazuya continued. "There will be a purge of more, but I need an increase in security personnel. I want Anna and Bruce in charge of vetting potential candidates. Every one of them goes through both Chaolan and I before they even sign a contract. If there's even a whiff that they may have been compromised…" His eyes flicked to Jun and whatever threat he had planned trailed off. "See that we aren't hiring more spies into our midst." Kazuya finished. He strode out from around the desk and faced the far wall. Chaolan quickly pulled out a notepad and pen and began writing. Kazuya continued speaking, arms behind his back, facing the wall. "I will draw up a list of Heihachi's old haunts and places he frequented in Tokyo. I want each location scouted and under surveillance. We will find whatever hole he's been driven into. I want to know his contacts. Who's been helping him, and what he's been doing for the last year. And fire everyone working at the Mishima Estate. Throw Wang Jinrei out of the grounds."

"K-… Kazuya," Chaolan said timidly. "The servants on the estate have been working there longer than _I've_ lived there… That's their home. It's the only life they know."

"Fire them."

"And Wang Jinrei was a friend of your Grandfather. That little house is all he has, he-"

"Do not even speak to me of Wang Jinrei. He is lucky to have his life at this stage. If our attention were not required immediately elsewhere-"

"Kazuya."

All the room bar Kazuya turned to look at Jun. Her interruption had been abrupt, quiet, but confrontational. All eyes switched back to Kazuya again. He remained facing the wall.

"He can live for now," Kazuya said, ignoring the interruption. "But clear the estate. And get answers from him before he runs for the hills. He's knows something about Heihachi that we don't."

"The laboratories," Jun interrupted again. Another silence. Bruce, Anna, and Chaolan looked between one another with a hesitant trepidation shared in their eyes.

"Now is not the time to deal with such things," Kazuya said stiffly, still with his back to them.

"Those experiments must end."

"The situation has changed. I will deal with them in good time."

Another silence. Jun could feel the tension and palpable fear suspended in the room around Kazuya's subordinates.

"You're still holding a man hostage." Jun's eyes narrowed at Kazuya's back.

"I need him. His expertise may be vital."

This time the silence persisted, long and stiff.

The afternoon sun slid dimly between grey, concrete Tokyo towers.

"Chaolan, see Bruce and Anna into my office." Kazuya's voice was low.

Chaolan bowed to him, and opened the office door. Bruce followed him in. Anna glanced back at Jun with one raised eyebrow before also following. The door was shut behind them.

Kazuya finally turned around.

"I have Zaibatsu business I need to conduct," he said. Jun fixed him with her eyes. "You made it clear to me once before that you had no desire to work for the Zaibatsu or to be involved in its business." His brow flickered slightly as he regarded her. He took a step closer. His finger moved to her chin, but she lifted her head a fraction higher so that his touch fell short. He lowered his hand again slowly. His voice changed, becoming softer. "Go choose an apartment. Anything you like. And a location for a dojo. I'll give you anything you ask for."

"You can't give me anything I'm asking for." She fixed him with a level, steady look.

His face darkened.

"We can talk about this later," he murmured. "I'm not ruling out those changes we talked about. I just need time. My priority has to be to prepare." His weight shifted, and she saw in that simple movement the agitation and fret and anxiety that his emotions would not speak of to her. His eyes disengaged and he seemed younger, perhaps even frightened. "He's coming for me, Jun. I need to be prepared to use every weapon in my arsenal."

She looked up at him, finally letting him see all her own fear and concern that she'd been holding back since he'd first told her the news that his father lived.

"… _Every_ weapon?" she whispered.

He glanced off to one side.

"I only just beat him last time. I need to be prepared to-"

"You're stronger than you think you are, Kazuya. You don't need to rely on-"

"I need every chance I can get!" The angles reappeared in his features, cast into shadow by the drifting light. A silence stretched between them and the world seemed darker to her. He softened his voice for her again. "Stop worrying. When this is all over, it can go back to the way it was. I'll make it up to you. I'll get rid of all those parts of the Zaibatsu you hate, we can go back to how it was on Yakushima. It'll be me and you. I'll clean up the Zaibatsu. I'll make it totally legitimate if that's what you want. I'll stop relying on this thing inside me. We can banish it like you said. And we'll do things you love. We'll take the car out to Wakayama, and you can show me the mountains there. We can do that regularly. We can do anything we want. We could run the dojo together even. Maybe there could be a new Mishima Ryu student for the first time in seventeen years. We can make a life together. But I have to do this one thing. Everything can be the way it was, just not yet."

"It's always 'not yet' with you, Kazuya. One day you're going to wake up and life will have happened and your 'not yet' will still be on the horizon. You'll spend your days promising to be a better man tomorrow, and in the end no one will believe you, because no one wants to see the you I see, and if you never give them the chance, they will be right in believing you to be a tyrant. They will be right that you are cruel and evil. If you do cruel things, one day you'll realise you've become a cruel person. It is our actions that define us. No one knows the maybes in your head, no one knows the 'not yet's you were planning."

"I said it would happened, so it will happen," Kazuya snapped. "I just need to do this one thing first. Once I kill my father, everything will be set to right again. I have a plan formulating for how to lure him out. Something he won't be able to resist rearing his ugly head for." Kazuya gave a short anxious bark of a laugh. "There's going to be a second King of Iron First Tournament. I'll offer it back to him – he won't be able to resist the public platform. I'll beat him for all the world to see. But not on my own. Whilst he's alive, I need my power, and I need to know how to control it, and I need the doctor's research, and I need the people he's experimenting on."

"People?"

"Animals."

"You said people."

"I meant animals. The people who are helping him experiment on animals." She fixed him with a black look. He reached for her chin again and this time caught it before she could move from his grasp. "Everything will be alright. I promise. I love you."

Jun blinked. Her mouth opened slightly. Her lip quivered. She looked up at him and swallowed. Rational things, hurt things, and that pressing warning that fate was on their heels, all faded and her mind went blank. She could only look up at those sharp features: wide cheekbones slashed with that old scar, imperious brow, and those covetous, intense, dark eyes that had seized her the moment they had first rested upon her. Kazuya leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"I'm going to book us a restaurant for this evening," he murmured, knowing that he'd captured her attention in those three words. "We'll have some time just the two of us. I'll see you later, alright?"

He gave her a soft look, one of those gentle ones he only ever saved for her and made her feel like the universe had paused. He gave her a small smile and brushed a thumb over her cheek. Her heart still beat fast for him despite it all. Her eyes fluttered halfway closed under his touch. Then his hand fell away. Jun's eyes flickered back open.

He turned his back on her and opened the door to his office. Chaolan, Bruce and Anna were all waiting for him.

Kazuya walked in. He went round the other side of his desk and sat down. He snapped open a silver cigarette case resting on the neatly tidied desk. Chaolan leaned forward and lit his cigarette for him. Bruce poured him a glass of whiskey and set it before him. Anna got up to shut the door. The door moved slowly, giving Jun a last glimpse of Mishima Kazuya before it closed with a gentle click.

* * *

**Author Note: **Thank you everyone for reading, and for your amazing comments and support throughout this story. It's been a real pleasure sharing it with you all and having your encouraging comments and love all the way through. This is the end of Jun and Kazuya's story arc, and so the end of our story too. Despite the inevitable downturn of the story, hopefully I've given a possible way of seeing the value and depth of Kaz and Jun's relationship despite its brevity. I like to think that there was something very important and valuable between them despite it ending in disaster. Disasters don't undermine the value of even those brief experiences. And I like to think that the fact that people like Jun might have seen something more in Kazuya, might mean that there's hope for him still even in the current Tekken games.

Sorry for another dark ending to a Tekken story, although unfortunately the canon is like that! My next story is post Tekken 7 and much lighter, following Jin Kazama and his relationship with Lee and Kazuya, so please stick around for more if you're interested, and lend me some more of your amazing support. I wish you all the best for the new year!


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